


Reason v Passion

by lilgirlost (lil_grl_lost)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Barristers, Child Abandonment, Drug Dealing, Kid Fic, Legal Drama, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_grl_lost/pseuds/lilgirlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Aristotle wrote, ‘The law is reason, free from passion’</i>
</p>
<p>When Manhattan based lawyer Arthur Pendragon left England five years ago, he had every intention of never returning; yet his father’s death changed everything. So with a stipulation hanging over his inheritance, Arthur finds himself sharing an office with the most unlikeliest of people, his barristers clerk Merlin. Unfortunately just when Arthur and Merlin’s work relationship begins to turn into something more, Arthur’s new client, teenage drug dealer Mordred, causes a rift to form between them after Merlin discovers the teenager’s connection to his best friend Will’s murder.</p>
<p>However just when Merlin starts to think his life couldn’t become anymore complicated, Will’s widow (and his current roommate) Freya takes off, leaving Merlin to care for her newborn son; but even Arthur isn’t one to let their fight stop him from being a friend to Merlin in his time of need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conditional Clauses

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank my beta and friend, xdark_chanx, for all her hard work on editing as well as for her unfailing encouragement and support. While this might not be my first big bang/challenge, it is my first time undertaking a story of this magnitude, yet I had a great time writing it and learned so much about the UK legal system in the process. A full list of research links can be found in the end notes.

**This is the last Will and Testament**

\- of me  UTHER PENDRAGON

of 15 West Halkin Street, Belgravia, London, SW1X 8JL

 

1.  I HEREBY REVOKE all former Wills and testamentary dispositions made by me under the law of England and Wales and declare that the proper law of this my Will shall be the law of England and Wales

2.  I APPOINT my daughter Morgana Le Fay Pendragon ('my daughter') to be the Executor and Trustee of this my Will (hereinafter called 'My Trustees' which expression shall include the Trustee or Trustees for the time being hereof) AND in case the aforesaid shall die in my lifetime or shall refuse or be unable to act in the office of Executor and Trustee then I APPOINT GODWYN LORDS to fill the vacancy in the office of Executor and Trustee hereof

3.  I GIVE the following legacies:

     (i)  I give to my daughter MORGANA LE FAY PENDRAGON absolutely and free of tax the sum of a HUNDRED THOUSAND pounds (£100000)

     (ii)  I give to my son ARTHUR PENDRAGON the remainder of my chamber lease at CAMELOT CHAMBERS to equal no less than one full calendar year from the date of my death

     (iii)  I give to my son ARTHUR PENDRAGON absolutely and free of tax the sum of a HUNDRED THOUSAND pounds (£100000) PROVIDED that he assumes the remainder of my chamber lease at CAMELOT CHAMBERS

     (iv)  I give my friend GAIUS Ó HÍCEADHA absolutely and free of tax the property located at 59 Saint Thomas Street, Penryn, Cornwall, TR10 8JP PROVIDED THAT if the said GAIUS Ó HÍCEADHA shall predecease me or fail to survive me by 30 days then I give the said legacy absolutely to my friend GODWYN LORDS

     (v)  I give HEART RESEARCH UK (1044821) absolutely the sum of FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND pounds (£500000)                 

4.  I DECLARE THAT if any share of any legacy in the above paragraph 4 of this my Will shall fail then from the date of such failure such share or shares shall accrue and be added to the share or shares in that legacy (if more than one in the proportion which such other shares bear to one another) which shall not have failed at the date of my death and be held subject to the same provisions and conditions as those affecting such other share or shares AND I FURTHER DECLARE THAT if any legacy in the above paragraph 3 of this my Will shall fail entirely or be declared void then it shall fall into and form a part of my Residuary Estate.

5.  I GIVE DEVISE AND BEQUEATH all my real and personal estate of whatsoever nature and wheresoever situate (including any property over which I may have a general power of appointment or disposition by Will) to my Trustees upon trust to sell call in and convert the same into money with full power.

***

"I thought he was senile and this just proves it," Arthur grumbled as he tossed his father's will on the table. Morgana rolled her eyes at her brother, waiting for him to continue his rant because Arthur Pendragon never did anything by halves. "Why the hell did he make you the executor of his estate?" He demanded, even though he already knew the answer to his question. His father had seen fit to make his feelings on Arthur's decision to practice law in New York City well known to anyone who listened, whether they wanted to or not.

"Arthur," Morgana began before a heated glare from Arthur caused her to change tactics and focus on anything but the elephant in the room. "Why don't you take my spare key and go back to my apartment? There's food in the fridge and wine in the pantry."

"I'm not a child, Morgana. I don't need you baby me," Arthur told her, continuing to glare openly at his sister. Rationally, he knew the contents of Uther’s will weren’t her fault; but since he couldn’t very well un-cremate his father and yell at him, Arthur settled for the next best thing. Thus his options were limited to Morgana or Godwyn, and Godwyn was out because he had no desire to face him and reopen that awkward business concerning his daughter, Elena.

"I wouldn't need to treat you like one, if you'd stop acting like one." Morgana replied, annoyed by her half-brother's general bad attitude when Uther was concerned. It had been almost five years since Arthur had escaped from Uther's household, choosing to attend law school in the states after completing university and his pupillage. Now he was home for their father's funeral and the settling of Uther's vast estate, apparently.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur ignored his sister’s remark and turned his focus back to the will, pretending to be interested in it. "What's he leaving to Gaius in Cornwall?"

"Apparently a pub, which a former client had given to him as payment a couple of years ago," Morgana supplied.

According to Godwyn, the whole transaction had been above board and Uther hadn't felt the need to sell the property, so he leased it. And now, it was to be Gaius' retirement scheme for when that day came, not that Morgana was wishing for it to happen anytime soon. The mere thought of Gaius retiring sent a chill through Morgana's body; he was the glue that held the chambers together and if he left, Morgana was sure anarchy would reign down upon them in a matter of days.

Arthur snorted at the thought of Gaius owning a pub in the middle of Cornwall; the older man was more likely to own a herbalist shop than a pub. Showed how much his father actually knew about his longest employed staff member to date; Uther had the worst luck with keeping employees. When Arthur was younger, he had actually believed Uther's rubbish concerning the work ethic of his staff. It was during his pupilage that Arthur fully grasp why his father wasn't able to keep employees for very long.

Who would want to work for such an arrogant, bigoted tyrant?

"I know what you’re thinking, Arthur, so please don't say it," Morgana began while holding her right hand up to Arthur, palm out in a _stop right there_ gesture. "Uther meant well and that is all I'm going to say about it. What he left Gaius is between him and Gaius. Although, Gaius does know that I have the authority to make certain concessions regarding the will."

"Is there any type of concession for the conditional clause which he's saddled me with?" Arthur questioned, knowing full well that there wasn't; Uther was probably having a good laugh in hell at this exact moment and all at Arthur's expense.

Morgana sighed and reached out for her brother's hand, holding it tightly as she spoke. "Don't let Uther have the last laugh, Arthur. I know you don't need the money, but prove that old bastard wrong. Prove to him that he wasn't the reason you left England, but England was the reason you left England."

"So you want me to stay the year and do the exact opposite of what my head is telling me to do."

"Yes." Morgana replied as she squeezed Arthur’s hand in reassurance. "Besides it's only a year and Uther's dead, so it's not like you actually have to deal with him."

For the first time since he entered his sister's office Arthur cracked a smile, chuckling lightly at her blatant fact. "I see your point. And I'll do it, but on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"I refuse to step one foot inside his office, find me somewhere else in the building... a broom cupboard if you have too." Arthur told her, in a very Uther like way. As much they both had tried to ignore it, Arthur had an air of Uther’s personality about him, a thought that left them both feeling cold.

"All right, your majesty," Morgana joked good-naturally. "Will there be any other demands?"

Arthur glared at Morgana, but there was no heat behind it. Regardless of their ages, Morgana was never going to allow Arthur to forget a childhood spent being called 'little prince' by every member of the household staff. "Not a demand so much as a question. What happens to the house?"

Morgana chuckled humorlessly and said, "Oh that's where the fun is. He always hated that neither one of us seemed inclined to marry young, so he decided that whoever marries first gets the house."

"Cause that’s an incentive to marry," Arthur quipped blandly. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur regarded Morgana for a moment before speaking again. "What's he counting as married?"

"Still gay then, little brother?"

"And searching for Mr. Right," Arthur countered, giving Morgana a wink and a small laugh.

Sighing deeply, Morgana said, "According to the wording of the will, Uther included civil partnerships in his definition of marriage."

"So are we going to rock, paper, scissors for the house or leave it up to chance?"

"You mean you don't want our childhood home?" Morgana said and then mimed an exaggerated expression of shock.

Arthur rolled his eyes at her; Morgana had two abilities she excelled at in school... theatrics and arguing. And even though, she ultimately chose law during her sixth form year, Arthur knew that if given the right opportunity, Morgana could have made it onto the stage. "Why the hell would I want the house I escaped from?"

"Not everything about it was so bad," Morgana pointed out with a shrug of her shoulders. Their childhoods hadn't been easy. Arthur had lost his mother on the day of his birth; her heart hadn't been strong enough to handle the stress of labor and she had died as a result of it. So after that, Arthur had been left in the care of an emotionally distant father and a series of highly-skilled nannies.

As for Morgana, her entire world was turned on its axis when she lost the only parent she had ever really known. Her mother had been killed in a car accident when she was six, and so from six to almost eleven, her dad Gorlois had raised her. It was only after his tragic death, due to a blood clot, that Morgana had found out that Gorlois had been her dad in name only; Uther Pendragon was her biological father and as such social services had deemed it in her best interest to be placed in the custody of her natural father.

The day Morgana had arrived to stay, Arthur had been a bratty child of eight and hell-bent on making sure Morgana understood her place in his father's household. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on his new sister to have a will of iron or a mischievous streak a mile wide... much to Nanny Morris' dismay. Overnight, the Pendragon household went from being practically a tomb to a home full of life, as the laughter and the screams of Morgana and Arthur filled its walls. It had taken some time for Arthur and Morgana to understand that neither were the enemy and before Nanny Morris knew what had hit her, Morgana and Arthur were inseparable. A fact unchanged after five years and an ocean between them.

"Yeah, at least we had each other.” Arthur murmured. “Speaking of childhoods... how is that half-sister of yours?"

"You really need to find a new outlet for your thinly-veiled animosity towards her, little brother. No matter what happens, she isn't you and you aren't being replaced," Morgana told him calmly. "After all, I only have room for one bratty sibling and I'm afraid that position was filled long ago... by you," she concluded before giving Arthur a cheeky grin and a wink.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Morgana, glaring at her in the same way that was reminiscent of their childhood. "Let me have your keys, so I can go sleep."

"Of course, your majesty," Morgana joked and handed fished the keys out of her purse. Holding them out, she waited for Arthur to take them.

"Is she going to be there?" Arthur asked, once he had the keys in hand. There was no reason for him to clarify his statement, because they both knew who he was referring to.

"Yes, Morgause will be there, Arthur," Morgana replied with an eye roll. "She does live there."

"I don't like it," Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and hunching his shoulders. The picture he portrayed remained Morgana of a ten year old Arthur, who hadn't gotten his way. "She's just using you, Morgana. A free loader is all she'll ever be. I bet--"

"Stop right there, Arthur Pendragon. My relationship with Morgause is none of your business, just as our relationship isn’t any of hers. You don't have to like her, little brother, but you do have to respect my wishes if you're going to stay with me,"” Morgana ordered, stopping Arthur from finishing his tirade.

Arthur had been in New York when Morgana had finally found the courage to find out everything she could about her mother, Vivienne. And there were certain truths she hadn't expected to find; namely an older half-sister, who Vivienne had given up for adoption when she had been younger. From what Morgana had been able to piece together, Vivienne and Gorlois had met as teenagers and within a couple of months, Vivienne became pregnant with Morgause. However, Morgana's grandparents disapproved of their relationship and the mere thought of their daughter as an unwed mother, so Vivienne had been sent to her aunt to have Morgause, who was then given up for adoption. It was only as adults that Vivienne and Gorlois reconnected, eventually marrying.

The whole sordid history left more questions than answers for Morgana, which even Uther refused to answer. Why did Vivienne cheat on Gorlois and then pass Morgana off as her husband's? Did his love for Vivienne blind him to the actual truth of Morgana's parentage? Or did Gorlois actually know that Morgana wasn't his and loved her despite it?

"Telling me not to say it, Morgana, isn't going to stop me from thinking it," Arthur said, giving Morgana a pointed look. "I'm worried that she's using you, sis."

"I know you are," Morgana replied gently, "but this is my life and my decision. She's a part of me, just like you are."

"I still don't like it."

With a light squeeze of Arthur's hand, Morgana said, "I know you don't; but you’ll respect my decision... right?"

Arthur sighed and grumbled, "Yes. I'll respect your decision."

"Good," Morgana replied, beaming at her little brother. "Now, go away so I can get some work done."

"I see how it is," Arthur joked as he stood from his chair, causing laughter to spill from Morgana's red colored lips.

"See you later tonight."

"You asking or telling?" Arthur responded with his hand resting on the doorknob. "Why you got a hot date? Need me to clear out for the evening?"

"Shut up, you," Morgana said as she rolled her eyes. "There might be drinks tonight, so I'll call you later if it's a go?"

"Sounds good, Ana," Arthur agreed, using her childhood nickname, as he opened her office door and stepped through, closing the door softly behind him.

***

Merlin was late... so late getting back to chamber and it wasn't even his fault. Skidding slightly on a wet patch, Merlin bounced off the landing's stone railing before managing to tug the outer door open, happy to finally be back, even if it meant being on the receiving end of a stern lecture from Gaius about efficiency and promptness being key in their line of work.

When Freya had called while he had been in Tesco Express, getting a quick cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch, Merlin knew he was done the moment she had turned on her baby-hormone-induced-waterworks. He knew he was going to do whatever she asked no matter the cost, and the cost was him being late to work and facing the wrath of Gaius. Fortunately, Gaius had a good heart and as soon as Merlin said that he had been running an errand for Freya, the senior barrister clerk would forgive him.

_"Merlin, organic foods are much better for the baby.”_

Stupid Freya and her new obsession of eating only organic food, which was why Merlin had ended up at three different Planet Organic shops before finally finding the exact flavor of popcorn she wanted. He shuddered at the mere thought of chipotle chili-peppers and paprika flavored popcorn; how Freya could eat it, Merlin would never know.

Just as he pulled the door open, a blonde man came barreling out of the building, knocking against Merlin and the door, jarring the former enough that he let the door go, causing it to fall back and smack right into the blonde.

"Hey! Watch it," the blonde exclaimed, clearly upset and angry if the scowl on his regal-looking face was anything to go on.

 _God, he's gorgeous_ , Merlin thought to himself as he allowed his eyes to roam across the blonde's face and body, taking in his brilliant blue eyes, almost aristocratic good looks, and the faint outline of muscles he could see through the blonde's jacket.

"Can't you see I'm walking here?" He sneered, which immediately caused Merlin to rethink his earlier assessment on the state of the blonde's looks. Attractive though he may be, his sneer and condensing attitude, only made Merlin want to punch him in the face. If Merlin was lucky, he might even break the bloke's nose and not his own hand.

"You ran into me," Merlin countered with a gesture to the door he had been holding; though now, it lay against one of the blonde's broad shoulders. "An apology right about now would be great."

Rolling his eyes, the blonde scoffed and said, "Well then, I'm waiting."

"I meant you to me, prat."

"A prat, am I?" The blonde asked with an eyebrow raised; there was his condescending attitude again.

"Yeah, didn’t you hear me? Or have your ears gone the same way as your manners?" Merlin challenged.

"My ears are just fine, mate," the blonde drawled, "though, we can't all have dumbo ears now can we?"

"Think up all that by yourself, clotpole?" Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow. The junior barrister clerk had dealt with his fair share of bullies, so the blonde wasn't any different than those he went to school with. Plus, he had heard almost every joke under the sun about the size of his ears, so he ceased being phased by it long ago.

"Now, I’m a clotpole," he taunted, grinning. "My, don't we just have a slew of adjectives at our disposal?"

Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes, he didn’t have time to deal with this idiot, especially when he was already late returning from lunch. "You've had your fun, now move."

The blonde tapped his chin thoughtfully then asked, "What's the magic word?"

"Now?"

"Merlin!" An older voice called out, startling both men from their staring contest. As he peered over the blonde’s shoulder, Merlin caught the impatient look in Gaius’s face. He hadn't even seen t he senior barrister clerk arrive. "Inside, I have an errand for you."

Without a word and with a nod of his head, Merlin slipped through the small opening created when the blonde had twisted around to look at the older man.

Once the junior clerk was gone, the blonde opened his mouth and greeted the senior clerk with a simple, "Gaius."

"Arthur," the white haired man returned with a slight bow of his head before following Merlin into the building.

"I might just have to take dear old dad's offer," Arthur murmured to himself as he left, with what could have been a faint bounce in his step and if there were... then it was completely between him and the birds.


	2. Second First Impressions

“Arthur!” Leon exclaimed as soon as he spotted his old friend. “Morgana said you were back in town.”

“Yeah,” Arthur breathed and gave Leon a small grin before gesturing to the bartender and saying, “I’ll have the least offensive ale you’ve got on tap.” The bartender gave Arthur a guarded look before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing a pint glass.

Arthur watched the bartender for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Leon, who hadn’t moved from the bar, even though his order had been filled. “I’m sorry to hear about Uther. He was a good man.”

“He was a bastard,” Arthur scoffed, “and yet nobody had the balls to say it to my face.”

Leon frowned slightly at Arthur’s response. Leon had known Arthur for almost their entire lives; they had attended Harrow together, and while there had discovered they had the same passion for the law. The only difference was that Leon’s father--one of the last true country gentlemen--had no expectations when it came to his son’s chosen profession. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Uther, who’d had Arthur’s entire future mapped out... from what school he’d attend to the barrister he’d undertake his pupilage with.

“So how long are you in town?” Leon questioned, quickly changing the subject. Although he’d never claim to be a fan of Uther Pendragon, Leon did have a begrudging respect for the man, all due to Leon having taken his pupilage with Uther. The barrister might have been the biggest bastard you’d ever meet in your life, and as much as Leon hated to admit it, Uther had been an amazing barrister, with an equally stellar reputation... even if some of his clients didn’t always appear above board.

Nodding at the bartender in thanks, Arthur took a long pull of his pint and then said, “I’m here until his estate is settled and if Uther’s will has its way, that’ll be another year.”

“Another year?” Leon parroted back, shocked by his remark. Morgana was skilled in succession and trusts, so the fact that she was handling Uther’s estate hadn’t come as a surprise. Yet, there was no way that Uther’s estate could be so complicated as to take Morgana a year to close it.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “Basically if I want to see a single quid of his money, I have to stay the year and practice law.”

Leon’s jaw dropped before he started chuckling. Clearly, there was no boundaries to the level Uther would stoop to get his way where Arthur was concerned. “Wow.... I am so sorry, mate.”

“It’s not your fault that Uther’s an insane bastard.” Arthur replied with a half shrug. “So where are we sitting?” He asked, grabbing a couple of pints from the bar and motioning Leon forward.

Leon turned on his heel and pushed through the crowd, leading Arthur to a couple of tables pushed together in the back corner. As the pair approached, Arthur saw a couple of old and new faces; there was Morgana and her half-sister Morgause, along with a couple barristers Arthur remembered from his brief time at Camelot.

“Arthur,” Morgana said by way of greeting. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“And for a moment I wasn’t,” Arthur replied as he set the drinks down on the scarred table. “Leon... drinks?” He asked, looking to his friend for some kind of direction.

Smiling apologetically, Leon pointed around the table as he rattled off each person’s order. Once Arthur was finished doling out the drinks, Leon said, “I guess it’s time for you to formally meet the gang,” earning him a grateful smile from his blonde friend. “I think you’ll remember Lance and with him is his lovely fiancée, Gwen.”

“How are you?” Arthur greeted as he leaned over the table to shake Lance’s hand. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Lance agreed with a grin and a laugh. Releasing Arthur’s hand, Lance gestured to the pretty dark-skinned woman next to him. “My fiancée, Gwen Ferrer; she’s Morgana’s clerk and an occasional receptionist when the needs arises.”

“It’s nice to finally put a face to a voice,” Gwen said with a small laugh while referring to the numerous times she had answered Arthur’s calls to Morgana.

“Oh!” Arthur drawled then quipped, “So you’re the lovely voice I sometimes heard on the other end.”

Lance growled softly under his breath as Gwen giggled and playfully rolled her eyes at Arthur. “Watch it, mate.”

“Untwist your pants,” Morgause chided, “Arthur doesn’t swing that way.”

Morgana sighed at her sister’s remark; leave it to Morgause to out Arthur without an ounce of tact. “Arthur thanks for that.” Morgause grinned and winked at Morgana, who quickly looked away before a smile could form on her own face. It was a little funny, even if Arthur didn’t see that way.

“Moving right along,” Leon stated to the company at large; though more for Arthur’s benefit. “And next to Gwen, we have these slobs,” he finished, waving his hand at the three men, who all looked to Arthur as though they had just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot, before taking a seat next to Morgause at the table.

“Oy!” One of the men exclaimed before lifting his pint to his lips; his lightly tanned skin was flushed red with laughter and good humor, while his longish dark hair had been slicked back in a low ponytail. “Gwaine Ryder, nice to meet you... You’re Uther’s son, aren’t you?”

Arthur nodded his head and muttered a soft, ‘yeah,’ before Gwaine continued with his part of the introductions. “I’m in media, entertainment, and sports.” He explained then nudged the light brown haired man next to him. “This is my partner, Percy; he’s an agent with Marshall Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Arthur replied reaching out and shaking both their hands. “Do you mind?” Arthur asked, gesturing vaguely to the empty chair next to the lean black man beside Percy.

“Oh, sorry,” Percy apologized as he pushed the stool out for Arthur. “And lastly, this is Elyan... Gwen’s brother.”

“Law?” Arthur asked out of curiosity. It seemed like everyone in Morgana’s group were either in the law or connected to it, so it was always nice to know beforehand, in case he happened to put his foot in his mouth.

“Engineering. Mechanical engineering to be exact.”

Arthur laughed and said, “How did you end up with a bunch of sharks?”

“I loved my sister too much to leave her to fend for herself.” Elyan joked, causing Gwen to poke her tongue out at him and then grin.

Clapping his soon-to-be-brother-in-law on the back, Lance remarked, “She works with us everyday and we haven’t eaten her, yet.” Rolling her eyes again, Gwen lightly punched Lance in the arm before leaning around him to pass Morgause a folded pound note, which looked to be a tenner.

Morgana grimaced at Lance’s poor attempt at humor. “Please, stop...Now.” She begged which earned her a smattering of laughter from her friends. “When’s Merlin getting here?”

“I talked to him at six and he said that he’d be here as soon as he dropped Freya at home.” Lance explained while glancing at his watch, which read half seven. “Freya must have gotten held up at work.”

“Probably,” Gwaine agreed and took a sip from his pint before turning his attention to his beeping mobile.

There was a sadness that Arthur noticed come upon the table when Lance mentioned Freya, which intrigued Arthur... made him want to know the story. Yet at the same time, he knew on some level that it wouldn’t be right, so he made a note to ask Morgana about it later.

Eventually the group settled into a lively discussion about England’s chances in the rugby league world cup, which Morgana had become a huge fan of in recent years. The only reason for it, Arthur suspected, was due to Morgana’s boyfriend, Alvarr, who was a fullback for the London Broncos. Even after all these years, Morgana continued to surprise him, which was part of the reason Arthur loved her so much. When they were teenagers, her affinity for surprises kept Uther on his toes and provided a much needed distraction when it came to hiding Arthur’s quest of self-discovery.

“Sorry, I’m late,” a voice announced, quickly followed by the sound of bag landing on the floor next to Arthur’s feet. Looking up, Arthur watched as _Mer_ lin from this afternoon slid into the empty stool between Leon and himself. “Freya needed to stop at Boots for more antenatal vitamins.” He explained with a sigh, his head falling forward to rest on the wooden table.

Reaching out, Gwaine ran his fingers through the pale man’s black hair, scratching the crown of his head slightly before pulling away again. “It’ll get better, Merlin. Only a couple more months to go,” Gwaine murmured, hoping to give his friend a bright spot to focus on.

Merlin moaned but didn’t lift his head. He hadn’t come to drink or even to socialize; he came to escape the hurt and the tears, which seemed to be Freya’s default emotional state at the moment. Although, he didn’t blame her in the least; he missed Will just as much as she did. The only difference was that she’d been his wife and pregnant with their first child. And now... she was simply his widow and still expecting their first child. How could one night change everything?

Freya had sent Will out for ice cream late one night and he never returned. The police found him hours later laying in a pool of blood with a fatal stab wound to the chest. Will had only been a few blocks for their home in Newport; the neighborhood was supposed to be safe. With Freya in the early stages of her pregnancy and only a couple months left in her veterinary nursing program, they thought it was the perfect place to live. She would only be a few miles from the university, so Will wouldn’t worry as much about her traveling by herself. Everything had been planned out: after Freya finished school, they planned was to return to London and have their baby, finally starting their lives. Unfortunately, life had a way of throwing a wrench in things.

Which was why Merlin was now sharing his tiny one bedroom flat with his best friend’s widow, who just so happened to also be his friend. No one could say that Merlin wasn’t caring for her out of anything but love. There was actually a time when he believed himself to be in love with her that was until he realized she didn’t get his heart racing like certain other things did… like watching Henry Morris, Mr. Lot’s gardener, take his shirt off on a hot August day. Once Merlin made this discovery, he had happily stepped aside for Will to have a chance with her. And it turned out they were perfect for each other, anyone could see it. Freya’s calm nature managed to balance out Will’s impulsiveness; yet at the same time, Will had a way of bringing Freya out from behind her wall of shyness.

Merlin moaned again, not at all relishing the idea of a crying baby at all hours of the night. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d love his godchild, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hate the not sleeping part of the bargain.

“Don’t remind me,” Merlin muttered into the wood. “I don’t sleep enough as it is. I’m going to be a walking zombie by the time the kid’s a month old.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, Gaius will let you catch catnaps on his sofa,” Lance said, chuckling in response to the dark look Merlin sent his way.

“Already tried it. He took one look at me and threw me out,” Merlin explained, earning a sympathetic tut from Gwen.

“So that’s why I found you hiding behind the receptionist desk last week,” Gwen stated before pushing back her chair. “What do you want, Merlin?”

“You don’t have too, Gwen. I can get it myself,” Merlin told her, “I just wanted to rest my legs a little bit.”

Waving away his statement, Gwen gave him a pointed look, the kind that clearly said ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer. “Merlin...” She said, drawing his name out as though she was warning him against doing something naughty.

“Cider and a packet of crisps,” Merlin replied, giving Gwen a small smile as she walked off towards the bar, “cheese and onion if they have it.”

“If you want, mate, you can come and stay with Gwen and me for a couple of nights,” Lance offered, giving Gwaine a pointed look and raised eyebrow.

“Or Percy and me,” Gwaine chimed in. “We’d love to have you. Wouldn’t we Perce?” Gwaine added while glancing at his partner, who nodded his head absently in agreement while playing with his mobile.

Sighing deeply, Merlin smiled grateful for his friends’ offers, but he knew that he wouldn’t take them. His conscious wouldn’t allow it, especially when Freya was in the last bit of her pregnancy. “Thanks, but no. It wouldn’t be right leaving Freya; she could pop at any moment,” Merlin said, earning a handful of chuckles and giggles from his friends.

“She’s a woman, not a balloon.” Elyan chided with laughter in his voice. “Seriously though, she wouldn’t blame you for taking a night off once in awhile.”

Merlin sighed again and said, “I know, she wouldn’t; but this isn’t about her, it’s about me and my guilt.”

“Merlin, what guilt?” Morgana asked, frowning at her friend’s statement. “You didn’t stab Will, so you have nothing to be guilty over.”

“Tell that to my head,” Merlin grumbled, face pinched, before it was replaced by a look of wonder as Gwen set a bottle of Magners cider, a pint glass, and a packet of cheese and onion crisps in front of Merlin.

“I’d kiss you if it wouldn’t offend Lance,” Merlin told her with a wink.

Gwen laughed and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to Merlin’s cheek before straightening again. “In that case, I’ll kiss you. That way, Lance will be cross with me instead.”

“As if I could ever be cross with you,” Lance commented before pulling his fiancée into his lap, causing the young barrister clerk to giggle and hit Lance open handed on his chest.

Morgause rolled her eyes and groaned at the display. “Kill me now,” she muttered under her breath as she watched the sickeningly sweet couple.

Knocking against her sister’s shoulder, Morgana gave her a pointed look, attempting to censor her before she said anything else. Following a terrible breakup, Morgause had become jaded when it came to men and ‘happy’ relationships, much to Morgana and everyone else’s frustration. Anytime someone within their group showed the slightest bit of happiness, Morgause had to interject with a snide comment or a disgusted look upon her face. Gwaine thought that one good shag would solve all her problems and Leon was inclined to agree but only after experiencing a very embarrassing encountered with her, which he refused to elaborate further on.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Arthur quipped with the barest touch of malice. Morgause sent him an ‘eat shit and die’ look and then turned away, slumping further in her chair as she slowly nursed her Cuba Libre.

At the sound of Arthur’s voice, Merlin stopped inhaling his packet of crisps and finally looked at the blonde, face morphing into a scowl upon the realization that it was the same prat from this afternoon. “Oh. It’s you,” Merlin said, frowning at the blonde, whose blue eyes seemed to twinkle at seeing him.

“Lovely to see you too,” Arthur smirked. “Run out of insults have you... already?”

“Clotpole,” Merlin drawled and turned away, intent on ignoring the blonde, who was seated much too close to him. Dragging his stool closer to Elyan, Merlin looked towards the dark-skinned man and smiled, causing Elyan to motion to his own stool, silently asking if Merlin wanted it. With a shake of his head, Merlin pulled his crisp packet and pint towards his chest, hunching over as he focused on finishing his meager dinner.

“You’ve meet?” Morgana asked as she pointed at them and wagged her finger from side to side. “When?”

Arthur shrugged and said, “This afternoon. He ran into me as I was coming out of chambers.”

“Ran into you! You ran into me, mate,” Merlin exclaimed, spinning around on his stool to get a good look at the blonde and in the process, almost knocked over his pint. “And I still haven’t gotten an apology for that.”

“Just don’t hold your breath, buddy,” Arthur scoffed with an eye roll. “If you’re not careful, your face might freeze like that. And then you’d be stuck looking like a Sundarban monkey.”

Arthur’s remark caused Merlin to blink blankly at Arthur, confused by his comment. “Did you just call me a monkey?”

“Umm,” Arthur said thoughtfully while tapping his chin in that same condescending way as before, “yes, I think I did.”

“Arthur, stop,” Morgana ordered, sensing that her brother and Merlin were close to coming to blows. “Merlin, I’d like you to meet my brat of a baby brother, Arthur.”

“Oh! That’s funny,” Merlin replied, grinning at Morgana. “And here was I was thinking he was a prat.”

“That too,” she laughed, earning a hard kick to her shin from Arthur. “Watch it, baby brother.”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Arthur scowled at Morgana. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Of course not,” Morgana told him, voice full of mirth. “I never said you were.”

“So how did you two meet?” Leon asked, steering their conversation away from the past because that was where it was headed. He had known Morgana and Arthur too long to be naive about how all their ‘discussions’ began and ended; no matter the topic, all seemed to wind their way back to a larger underlying issue... their childhood with Uther.

“This clotplole,” Merlin said with a jerk of his thumb, indicating Arthur, “ran into me as I coming into the chambers after lunch.”

“I did not!”

“Oh, yes you did,” Merlin argued. “I had just opened the door then you ran into me and the door.”

Arthur scoffed again. “I seem to recall it differently, but it doesn’t matter. You’re wrong.”

“While I usually find great joy in other people’s misery,” Morgause started before pushing away from the table to stand, “it isn’t misery when it’s really thinly veiled sexual tension. With having said that, I’m going home. I hear my bed calling.”

Morgana laughed at her sister, though she didn’t try to make her stay; instead she simply said, “I’ll join you. It’s getting kind of late and I have court in the morning.” Standing up from her chair, Morgana gathered her coat and followed her sister out.

“I have a client meeting, myself,” Lance chimed in before grabbing his coat and glancing at Gwen, who nodded her head in silent agreement. “Goodnight everyone, we’ll see some of you tomorrow.” With a wave from Gwen, the pair departed the rapidly emptying pub.

One by one, the table of friends quickly dispersed with varying excuses about late hours and early work days tomorrow, until only Arthur and Merlin were left sitting at the tables.

With a disdainful eye roll, Arthur looked at Merlin and said, “you managed to drive all my friends away.”

“Before tonight, you only knew Morgana, and so technically the party at large were my friends. And I didn’t drive them away, your cabbagehead ways did.” Merlin shot back, annoyed and tired by his smug, holier-than-thou attitude, and then jerked his stool back. With his bag in his hand, Merlin twisted on his heel and left, stomping and muttering his way out of the pub.

‘If I see him again,” he thought, ‘it’ll be too soon for my liking.’


	3. Arthur's Arrival

“And that’s another week down,” Merlin announced, relief evident in his voice as he crossed off yet another Sunday on his wall chart with a bright red sharpie. Freya had just entered her 32nd week and the end of her pregnancy couldn’t come fast enough. The mood swings, food cravings, and the sleepless nights were starting to wear on him. Plus, he really wanted to sleep in his own bed; sleeping on the couch was murder on his back. If it continued for much longer, Merlin worried he’d be crippled before he was 30, which would kill his game… if he actually had any game. Since Freya had come to live with him, Merlin hadn’t been a proper date much less had sex in months. He missed sex…. Oh God, did he miss sex!

“Just remember, Merlin,” Gwen began gently, her tone bordering on fondly teasing, “there’s going to be a baby at the end of your countdown.”

Merlin whimpered and threw himself dramatically into a vacant chair, slumping against its plush back as his mind ventured towards the most important subject they had yet to really discuss: What happens next?

After Will’s murder, it had been a given that Freya would stay with Merlin, so she’d have a support system during the pregnancy; but neither had really discussed or given much thought to what would happen to Freya after she had the baby. And as much as he loved Freya and his soon-to-be-godchild, Merlin did have a life before their arrival, one that he’d very much like to get back to. One that sadly, he didn’t imagine including living full-time with a widow and baby.

“The offer still stands. You’re more than welcome to spend a couple of nights with Lance and me,” Gwen told him while her hand rhythmically petted his hair in a soothing manner. Will’s death and Freya’s immediate arrival had thrown Merlin’s life into chaos, and it didn’t take much for Gwen (and everyone else) to come to that conclusion… the purplish shadows and worry lines around his eyes spoke volumes.

Sighing deeply, Merlin murmured a quiet, “I know,” before heaving his body from the chair and grabbing his messenger bag. Just as he was slinging the strap over his shoulder, settling it across his chest, Gaius walked in, looking very tense… well, tenser than usual. Quickly side-eyeing each other, Merlin and Gwen patiently waited for Gaius to deliver the latest oh-so-bad news because they knew what that look meant. It was a look Gaius only had when one of two things was about to occur: a new barrister or a new pupil.

 _‘Please don’t let it be a new pupil,’_ Merlin mentally pleaded.

The last one had barely managed to survive his pupilage without Merlin punching him in his smug, Eton-born-and-educated face. Somewhere along the way (read: from the beginning) he thought that junior barrister clerks were his own personal wait staff, which had lead to some very heated words between Gaius and Uther. It wasn’t until he had ordered Gwen to pick up his dry cleaning and a coffee while Lance and Morgana happened to be passing by, that Uther finally said or did something about it. Those last few weeks had been the highlight of Merlin’s time at Camelot Chambers, for the sheer pleasure of watching the young pupil terrified of opening his mouth much less actually speaking to any of the chambers’ clerks.

“Merlin, I need you to go and clean your office; the movers will be here at half 9 to shift the furniture around.”

“You mean my cupboard,” Merlin joked but a stern look from Gaius wiped the grin off his face. “Why are movers coming to shift my furniture?”

Gaius sighed at Merlin’s lame joke; the boy really needed to get new material. Everyone knew that his office was the size of a broom cupboard and as Gwen continually pointed out, at least Merlin had an office; the other five junior clerks shared the open floor between Gaius’s and Merlin’s offices.

“Actually, they’re coming to move another desk into your office; but your furniture needs to be shifted to make room.”

“Another desk?” Merlin asked, intrigued yet confused by Gaius’s explanation. “I’m not sharing an office with George; I’d rather—“

“Save it,” Gaius interjected, thereby stopping Merlin’s rant in its tracks. “We have a new barrister starting today.”

Merlin tilted his head, slightly confused by Gaius’s explanation, especially when he knew there was a free chamber following Uther’s death. “And he…, she…, it…? will be sharing my office with me? Gaius, you do realize that Uther’s chambers are open.”

“I know they’re open, Merlin, but Mr. Pendragon has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t wish to take his father’s chambers, so concessions are being made.”

“Pendragon? As in Arthur Pendragon... the prat, who ran into me on the stairs?”

“Merlin!”

Merlin shrugged and grinned at Gwen’s disapproving look, unfazed by it. She could chastise him all she wanted (and she did on a fairly regular basis); but Merlin wasn’t going to retract his statement. Arthur Pendragon was a prat and he was probably going to be as bad, if not worse than his father.

Sighing again, Gaius ignored his first junior clerk and focused on getting his intended message across before he left to meet with Godwyn. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he started, sending Merlin a pointed look, which caused the young clerk’s ears to glow pink, “the best spot for the new desk is on the left side of your office, Merlin. So I need to you move your belongings from along that wall, which if I’m correct would mean that yours and Mr. Pendragon’s desk would face one another.”

“You mean I’ll have to stare at his pratish face all day, every day?” Merlin groaned, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at the ceiling tiles.

“While I understand the situation isn’t ideal, I do need you to do this, Merlin, and without any lip. You will show him the proper respect he is afforded as being a member of this chamber, regardless of your personal feelings towards him. Do I make myself clear?”

With a disgusted look on his face, Merlin muttered a quick, “yes Gaius,” before stomping away and not quite slamming his door.

“He’ll come around,” Gwen told Gaius, giving him a what-can-you-do smile and shrug. Gaius returned her gesture with a snort before leaving her to finish sorting the rest of the morning mail.

“I think Merlin should--” George, a fellow junior barrister clerk, started, but quickly fell silent due to the stern glare Gwen threw in his direction.

“Nobody asked you, George,” Gwen replied, her voice becoming sickeningly sweet, though it did nothing to hide her contempt for the man. From the moment he arrived, George had been the epitome of order and regulation much to the abhorrence of the clerks and occasionally Gaius. It was as though he made it his mission to constantly inform the barrister clerks on the most ‘efficient’ way to perform their duties. Plus, the clerk didn’t seem to understand the concept of fun or relaxation... boring was his middle name.

Clearing his throat, George sniffed distastefully at Gwen’s tone and clasped his hands behind his back, straightening his shoulders. “Let Gaius know that I’ve left for the listing meeting and I’ll be back by 10.”

Gwen nodded her head and waited until George was gone before sinking down in her chair, breathing a large sigh of relief that the other clerk was gone. Now she could focus on getting Merlin in good headspace before Morgana’s brother showed up.

***

“How’d it go?” Lance asked, startling Gwen from the staring contest she seemed to be having with Merlin’s door. After giving the door an exasperated sigh and eye roll, Gwen glanced at her fiancé and frowned.

“Still stubborn,” Gwen replied with a shake of her head. She had just spent the last twenty minutes trying to reason with Merlin, but all she managed was to cause him to dig his heels in further.

Lance shot her look of disbelief, secretly wondering if his fiancée was truly that naïve when it came to Merlin. “Are you really surprised by it?”

“No, not really,” Gwen said and scrunched her nose at Lance, causing the barrister to chuckle and smile fondly at her. “Though, I’d hoped that he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“Gwen, it’s Merlin,” Lance pointed out as he wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed. 

“I know, I know.” Gwen sighed again, wishing that her best friend would just see reason for once; yet the odds of that happening were slim. Fluttering her eyelashes at Lance, Gwen peered up at the barrister and said, “Care to give it a try?”

Lance didn’t even bother to fight it. All it took was one coy look from Gwen and he would have willingly entered the devil’s fire if she asked. “Good luck kiss?” He asked, even though they both knew it was more of a bribe than for luck.

“Only ‘cause you’re cute,” Gwen joked with a grin. With an exaggerated flair (going as far as to stick her bum in the air), Gwen leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Lance’s cheek before turning away. As she walked away, Gwen paused at the door and threw a playful wink over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

Lance squared his shoulders, as though he was soldier facing his enemy on the battlefield, and then tapped quickly on the door, not pausing for a response before opening it. What he found inside did surprise him as much as he thought it would. Instead of finding a quietly steaming Merlin, he found a Merlin half-way passed out on his desk, drooling slightly on a stack of papers under his head.

Shaking his head at the pitiful sight, Lance crossed the small room and lightly shook Merlin’s shoulder, causing him to jerk back with a piece of paper stuck to his face. Lance had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the sight. “You alright, mate?”

“If you’re coming to talk sense to me, don’t bother,” Merlin replied as he pulled the document from his face. “He’s a prat, end of story.”

“There’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Lance quipped which earned him a steely glare from Merlin as the clerk crossed his arms, clearly unamused by the comment. “So he was an ass to you, big deal. It’s not the end of the world, Merlin. Leon says he’s a pretty decent bloke, so give him a chance.”

“I don’t see why I have to share my office,” Merlin grumbled as he glanced around the postage stamp size office. Regardless of how much he complained, Merlin counted himself lucky to even have a private office--he could be stuck sharing a desk with George.

“Don’t you mean your cupboard?” Lance teased which caused Merlin to crack a small smile at Lance’s use of his lame joke. Merlin knew it was lame joke and yet he continued to tell it.

“I hate you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lance retorted blandly. “Now, Gwen told me to tell you the movers are arriving in thirty. What do you need help shifting?”

“You don’t have to help,” Merlin replied, “and I still hate you.”

Lance rolled his eyes at Merlin and said, “In that case, I’ll just leave you to it.”

Merlin glanced around the room, taking in all the books and knick knacks he needed to move out of the way, to make space for Arthur’s desk. “I lied. I love you.”

“Good man.” Lance laughed, clapping Merlin on the back. The barrister clerk grinned at his friend and handed him one of the boxes that Gaius had left prior to Merlin’s arrival at work. “Coffee after?”

“Sounds good,” Merlin replied as they set to work on opposite sides of the office: Merlin handling the packing of his trinkets while Lance tackled his bulging bookshelves.

***

“Sorry, it’s not a barrister office,” Morgana began as she opened the door which connected Merlin’s office to the corridor.

Arthur shrugged and dropped his briefcase on the nearest desk, which only had a computer on it. The other desk had a couple of boxes piled on top it like it was waiting for its owner to return. “I know you think my ego is big, but I don’t need two desks, Morgana,” Arthur joked, motioning to the desk opposite his new one.

“Actually that’s what I need to talk to you about, little brother,” Morgana said grimacing slightly. “The office is Merlin’s, so you’ll be sharing with him.”

“Why couldn’t he be moved?” Arthur asked calmly; he couldn’t begin to fathom why he would be sharing an office with a barrister clerk, a junior one at that.

“Because there was no room for him in the clerks’ room and Gaius still needs him close.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her remark. He had never known Gaius to be in need of help or assistance, but then again, a lot had changed since the last time Arthur had seen the older man. “He’s more than a junior clerk...?”

“He’s first junior clerk and helps Gaius keep the rest of the clerks in line,” Morgana told him. “Plus, he makes a mean cup of joe,” she added with a wink and a grin.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Spoilsport,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at her him.

Instead of responding to her childish behavior, Arthur shook his head and ignored her, choosing instead to focus his attention on the room’s layout. While the space was cramped and far from ideal, Arthur actually relished the thought of having four walls and privacy. As an associate lawyer, his desk--along with most of first through third year associates-- had been in a bullpen, where they had no privacy and you always ran the risk of having another associate snake your work if it was left unattended too long.

If he really thought about it, Arthur kind of liked the year he spent as Godwyn’s pupil… minus the occasional run-in with Uther; the work had been interesting and fulfilling. Arthur had felt like he’d been making a difference in the lives of his clients. Unfortunately the moment Arthur had the mere idea of specializing in family law, Uther had shut him down, letting Arthur his future law career had been mapped out long ago.

“Fine,” Arthur grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping into a nearby chair. From the moment he woke up, Arthur had slowly felt the tension creep into his neck and shoulders, his body’s natural reaction when setting foot within Uther’s domain.

Morgana laughed, long and hard, then said, “Baby brother, you haven’t a choice. It’s either this or Uther’s chambers and you’ve made it abundantly clear your feelings on that.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure,” Morgana said as she shrugged her shoulders. “Gwen and Lance took him out for coffee, so he wouldn’t see your smiling face and decide to punch you.”

“Punch me. Why the hell would he have reason to punch me?” Arthur demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at his sister.

Morgana rolled her eyes and sighed; sometimes he could be such a self-centered pillock. Giving Arthur a petulant look, which bordered on patronizing, Morgana replied, “Merlin’s fiercely loyal and if he feels like you’ve wronged him or anyone he loves, he’ll hold a grudge.”

“What is he twelve?” Arthur joked, though Morgana’s facial expression told him everything he needed to know about his new barristers’ clerk. Merlin was the person you wanted working for you and not against you; a good ally to have if the time ever came for Arthur to need it.

Ignoring Arthur’s jab, Morgana leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and then whispered, “Have a good day at work, little brother. Try not to piss Merlin off too much.” Arthur snorted at her thinly veiled threat, because it was a threat. Morgana didn’t idly tell people what to do; she either told you directly or her tone would leave no doubt as to the true meaning of her words. “We have to work with him too, Arthur. You piss him off and we all suffer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur replied as he waved her out of his office. “Is that all, mother?”  There were a couple of phone calls he wanted to make and he didn’t need Morgana eavesdropping. Also Merlin would probably be back any minute, so Arthur needed to prepare himself for their impending encounter.

“Love you, brother,” Morgana called back amusingly as she left. Shaking his head, Arthur waited until the click of her heels disappeared down the hall before picking up his mobile and dialing a much needed and familiar number.

“You busy?”

***

“He’s not a bad guy, Merlin. Leon likes him.”

“Leon likes everyone. Also, Leon’s probably immune to his pratish behavior.”

“Merlin!”

“Call it a reaction of having been _friends_ with him for so long.”

Looking away from his computer screen and towards the hallway’s door, Arthur waited to see if the voices would continue talking about him. Normally, he would’ve ignored people talking about him and chalked it up to associate backstabbing, which was typical in large firms. Though here, it was different. Although, all the barristers shared the same support staff and equipment, they were practically independent of each other. Their careers and clients were their own and not shared by anyone else within the chambers.

Once Arthur realized their conversation was over, he turned back to his computer and his ongoing search for a flat. While he appreciated Morgana’s gracious offer, he needed to get out of her place as quickly as possible; otherwise, Morgause and he would likely kill each other before the end of the month. Neither could stand the other and didn’t have the sense to keep their mouths shut when they happened to be in the same room. Arthur knew their petty bickering was starting to wear on Morgana’s nerves, considering she’d taken to spending more time at her boyfriend’s flat.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Arthur murmured back absently, his eyes never leaving the estate agents’ website. The current property had potential, close to work and moderately priced.

After jotting down the agent’s contact information, Arthur finally looked away from the screen, focusing on the two men, who had entered the room. Merlin, Arthur could recognize anywhere— _It’s the ears_ , Arthur told himself, _the only reason are his ears_ —and a dark haired, tanned man that his brain identified as being Gwen’s fiancé, _Lance._

Grinning sheepishly, Arthur stood up from his desk, reaching out his hand, and said, “Hi, sorry. Lance isn’t?”

“Yeah,” Lance said with a grin as he reached out and grasped Arthur’s hand, shaking it. “Anything interesting?” Lance asked, motioning to the computer between them. The question asked partly due to Lance’s curiosity and his general friendliness towards meeting new people. 

“Just flats.”

Lance nodded his head gravely as though he understood Arthur’s plight; though he choose not to remark on it. Instead he said, “It was nice seeing you again, Arthur,” before sending a pointed look to Merlin. The eye flick was brief, but Arthur could tell that Lance had clearly indicated something to Merlin, even if the meaning to him wasn’t clear.

“It’s a real shame that you’re being forced to share an office with him,” Lance teased, jerking his thumb at Merlin, who gave an unnatural squawk in reply.

Chuckling to himself, Arthur glanced over at Merlin, who was glaring daggers at Lance from his desk. “I think you’d better go; otherwise, Merlin might just glare you to death,” he suggested gently.

“You just might be right,” Lance agreed, humor lacing his tone. Knowing better than to get near Merlin when he was in a mood, Lance waited until he was at the door before speaking again. “Dinner with Gwen and me, tonight?”

As soon as the words left Lance’s mouth, a change came over Merlin. He was no longer openly glaring at his friend; instead, his eyes were downcast, staring at the wood in front of him with his shoulders slumped in a sign of defeat.

Arthur secretly wondered what it was about Lance’s question that could have caused such an abrupt change. Could it have something to do with the young pregnant woman currently living with Merlin? That was one story, Morgana refused to share with him. She claimed it wasn’t her story to tell and if Arthur wanted to know then he needed to befriend Merlin.

“Sorry, mate. But I can’t,” Merlin replied with a half-shrug. “I can’t--”

“Leave Freya,” Lance finished, rolling his eyes, obviously annoyed by Merlin’s regular response. While he understood and respected Merlin’s loyalty to Will’s memory and his friendship to Freya, Lance couldn’t help but feel anger towards her arrival.

As far as Lance was concerned, she had systemically stolen his best friend’s life. Merlin never went out anymore and when he did, it was always immediately after work and he never stayed very long. The situation left Lance feeling sick, uneasy, and worried for his friend, especially his heart when everything was said and done.

Merlin frowned at Lance, yet he didn’t say a word, just sighed and shook his head. Everyone close to him claimed they understood his position; but they really didn’t, not like Merlin needed them to. Sure, Will and Freya were two of his oldest and closest friends and Merlin wanted to protect and care for both Freya and their unborn child; yet it was more than that. When Will died, Freya lost the only family she had and Merlin felt an overwhelming desire to give her some semblance of that life back, even if cost him his own happiness in the process.

Lance sighed again as he opened the door; there was no way Merlin was going to listen to reason or do what was best for himself, so Lance decided to leave him to his work. With a flick of his wrist, Lance walked out, closing the door softly behind him. If they were all lucky, Arthur’s _charming_ personality would be exactly the jolt Merlin needed to see reason.

“What does a guy have to do to get a tour of this place?” Arthur joked in an attempt to lessen the tension in the air. Though he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d said anything, based on the dark look Merlin sent his way. Averting his gaze from the clerk, Arthur’s focus returned to the unending flat listing, hoping that they would pass the rest of the day in bearable silence.

“Stop being a clotpole, but considering it’s you, I find that highly unlikely,” Merlin retorted without an ounce of humor in his voice.

Frowning, Arthur’s eyes followed Merlin’s movements as he bent over his own computer and slowly pecked at the keyboard. “What do you want me to say?” Arthur demanded, quickly becoming annoyed by Merlin’s attitude. Clerks were supposed to be respectful to their barristers, but Merlin seemed to be anything but.

“An apology for starters and yet, I seem to recall that you don’t give apologies,” Merlin drawled blandly, but Arthur caught the faint twitch of a smile as he spoke.

Grinning more to himself than at Merlin, Arthur chuckled lightly and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t seem to recall saying anything of the sort.” Merlin squawked again and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly put off by Arthur’s statement; yet Arthur could see the ghost of a smile tugging at the clerk’s lips. Deciding to see how much it took to make him smile, Arthur smirked ruefully and said, “You’d think your hearing would be better given the size of your ears.”

“Hey!” Merlin yelled as his hands flew up automatically to cover his ears, which caused Arthur to snort and shake his head. After removing his hands from his ears, Merlin pulled a face at Arthur before hunching over his computer and resuming his early task of updating the chambers’ diary.

Once Merlin was no longer looking at him, Arthur grinned as his computer screen at the sound of keyboard tapping and faint muttering filled the room. At least this was a mood Arthur had a hand in making, instead of the other one... one Arthur couldn’t even begin to understand. Now that everything appeared to be settled, Arthur spent the rest of the work day focused on finding a new place to live.


	4. A Beginning?

“You clotpole!”

Gwen stifled the giggle, threatening to burst from her lips at hearing Merlin’s outrage. She knew she shouldn’t laugh, and yet she couldn’t help herself. They were just too funny when they resorted to their eight year selves.

Over the last couple of days, the chambers had practically become a war zone between Arthur and Merlin as the pair battled for dominance within their shared office. For the most part, the war was self-contained to childish pranks and verbal sparring, which Gwen likened to pigtailed pulling. All of it was actually kind of endearing to watch.

Biting her lip, Gwen ducked her head as she waited, watching as Merlin stomped pass and into Gaius’s office, slamming the door behind him. After tucking a stray hair behind her ear, Gwen returned to her work, a little thankful for the silence; however it didn’t last long. As soon as the door shut behind Merlin, Arthur barged out their office, yelling Merlin’s name as he crossed the clerks’ suite.

“He needs to learn respect,” George commented offhandedly while keeping his voice low enough, so that only Gwen heard his comment. Gwen knew exactly who her fellow was referring to and it definitely wasn’t Arthur.

“Thank you, George,” Gwen said with false sweetness while barely containing an eye roll. Gaius had already told them off once about their behavior towards George. _The_ _pettiness wasn’t good for chamber morale_ , he said. Also it caused rifts between the barristers because regardless of his abilities, none of the barristers seemed to want him as their assigned clerk, which lead to scheduling and work flow headaches for Gaius—only Merlin was allowed to bestow customary headaches on Gaius, an advantage of being the senior clerk’s godson.

“It’s like they’re children and Gaius is their teacher.”

“Funny,” Gwen murmured as she turned to look at Morgana, who was leaning against the open doorway. “I thought they were.” The pair shared a chuckle and then a grimace as Merlin’s muffled screeching worsened. It couldn’t be good for his larynx.

After a quick glance at the wall clock, Morgana arched her eyebrow and asked, “Coffee?”

“Would be lovely,” Gwen agreed, already turning off her monitor. “Can I bring Lance?” The question was Gwen’s subtle way of asking whether their coffee break would be strictly girls’ only. Sometimes they just needed the ability to vent about the men in their lives.

“As long as I can bring the other three,” Morgana said with a grin. While she waited for Gwen to grab her purse, Morgana glanced at George, who appeared to be intently focused on organizing court briefings, so with a shrug of her shoulders, she asked, “Tea or Coffee, George?”

“Miss?”

Morgana’s lips twisted and her eyes crinkled at the perplexed look on the clerk’s face before she clarified her earlier question. “We’re going out for coffee. Can I bring you back a tea or a coffee?”

“You don’t have to do that, Miss,” George told her evenly, staring straight ahead and his eyes never wavering.

“I know. And yet I asked,” Morgana replied, a little put off by his remark. The way some people treated her kindness, it was like they thought she was an evil witch… honestly _._ “So what will it be?”

“Black Oolong tea, Miss,” George said with a brief pause before adding, “And thank you, Miss.”

Morgana brushed away his thanks and said, “Think nothing of it. You ready, Gwenie.”

“Yep,” she piped then held up her wallet for Morgana to see. “Shall we go get the boys?”

“Where we going?”

The two women turned at the sound of Leon’s question, finding him along with Gwaine and Lance standing in the open doorway.

“Coffee shop at the corner,” Morgana informed them, “but only if one or all of you are paying,” she added after a beat, giving the men a sly wink and a mischievous grin.

“Oh bless,” Leon praised as he rested his hand on his heart, “your little black heart.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Morgana stuck her tongue out at the barrister, falling back on old childish habits when it came to dealing with a sarcastic Leon or Arthur. Leon laughed at Morgana’s face and nudged her shoulder with his own, letting her know that he meant nothing by it.

“So,” Gwaine drawled, “who’s paying?”

“You, my friend, need to get a job,” Lance joked, clapping Gwaine on the shoulder before lightly shoving him through the open doorway.

“I have a job.”

“In that case, maybe you should stop spending your money on pub nights and scantily clad women,” Leon joked, causing Gwaine to make an exaggerated shushing motion, hands flailing and lips pushed out.

“Quiet,” Gwaine whispered as he glanced around, paranoid that someone had heard Leon’s comment. “He’ll hear you,” he joked, obviously referring to his partner Percy.

Hiding her giggles behind her hand, Gwen turned away and led the group out the door. If they didn’t leave now, they stood a very good chance in getting caught in the aftermath of Arthur and Merlin’s spat. She already been there and done that, and never got her t-shirt. It’s an experience she never wanted to repeat, even under pain of death.

One by one, the group filled out leaving George and the rest of the of the barristers’ clerks to enjoy the sounds of anger and low threats coming from inside Gaius’ office.

 

***

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Gaius tried to calm his fraying temper and stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. As much as he loved his job, he wasn’t paid nearly enough to play referee to two grown men, especially ones he’d known almost all their lives.

“Enough!”

Merlin and Arthur’s mouths closed and they turned at the sound of Gaius’ voice, looking at the man in shock and wonder. Neither man could remember at time when Gaius had ever raised his voice, not even during one his “discussions” with Uther. Backing away from Arthur, Merlin moved behind a nearby chair and rested his hands on the back, clutching the coarse fabric to keep from punching Arthur in the face, which he was dangerously close to doing.

“Gentlemen, you **will** sort this out between you,” Gaius ordered, his voice booking no room for argument. “I’m not your nursemaid.”

“Of course, Gaius,” Arthur murmured apologetically before turning on his heel and walking out. Merlin followed behind a few minutes later, after giving Gaius his best shamefaced expression. He hated disappointing his godfather, especially while at work, but there was just something about Arthur that made him so combative.

Once they were out in the bullpen, Arthur turned to Merlin, openly glaring at his clerk. “Why can’t you just do your job?”

Instead of answering, Merlin stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Silently fuming, Merlin crossed to the receptionist desk and grabbed his navy blue raincoat from the cloakroom, wrapping it around himself to stave off the faint autumn chill. Taking the stairs two at a time, Merlin’s feet bounced when they hit the pavement before he paused, looking left and right as he debated which direction to take. So with a carelessly given shrug, Merlin turned right and followed the path down to the Victoria embankment. There were a couple of nice quiet benches, where he could enjoy the passing ships and forget about Arthur Pendragon for a couple of hours.

***

“Merlin, we need to talk,” Lance greeted the moment he and Gwen entered the clerk’s office. At first glance, Merlin appeared to be eyeballs deep in fee billing, a job everyone loathed, except for maybe Leon. With his head for numbers, the barrister could’ve been a mathematician if he’d been so inclined.

Without looking up, Merlin muttered a quick, “I’m kind of busy,” before grabbing another stack of invoices on his desk. Due to Arthur’s insane whims--whims that Merlin were fulfilling, no matter how crazy they seemed—Merlin had fallen behind on the client fees and he knew Gaius had started to notice, so he intended to head the upcoming lecture off at the pass. So here he was on a Friday night, in an empty office building, even those the rest of the chambers had already cleared out for the weekend.

“Maybe we should leave him?” Gwen wondered aloud as she lightly touched Lance’s arm, bringing his focus to her.

“He works too hard.” Lance murmured with a shake of his head. If it wasn’t Freya holding his attention then it was his job. Merlin’s life wasn’t his own anymore; anyone could see it.

With a soft, sad smile on her face, Gwen told him, “Go make him a cuppa. I’ll see if I can get him to come home with us.” Nodding his head, Lance left, making sure to close the door behind him.

The original plan had been a quiet night in, but when Lance had realized he’d left a contract at the office, they had quickly turned around. However neither had expected to find Merlin pouring over the books at such a late hour.

“Merlin,” Gwen began, hoping to get her friend’s attention before she touched his hand. She didn’t want to startle him. “Sweetie?”

“I can’t, Gwen. I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” she replied softly and pulled the pen from his hand. Merlin grunted, making a half-hearted grab for it before abandoning it in favor of another pen on his desk. After taking the second pen from her friend along with the cup of writing implements, Gwen turned his chair around so she could look him in the eye. Her voice stern as she told him, “Lance is making a cup of tea, which you will drink. Then you’re going to put on your jacket and come home with us.”

Sighing deeply, Merlin worried his bottom lip as he glanced between the files spread across his desk and Gwen. “I’ll go home but not with you.”

“You’re going home with us, mate,” Lance interjected when he returned with Merlin’s tea, just the way he liked it. “Gwen’s not going to take no for an answer. We both know it, so why fight it?”

Merlin chuckled humorlessly at Lance’s statement, causing Gwen to wrinkle her nose at the pair’s less than stellar attempt at humor. After taking the offered mug, Merlin sipped the hot brew as he slowly shut down his computer for the night. Gwen and Lance might’ve won this battle, but the war was long from over. There wouldn’t be anything or anyone to stop Merlin from coming in bright and early tomorrow morning to finish the invoices, and if he was lucky, he might just manage to get a head start on Arthur’s briefs before his brain decided to rebel.

“True,” Merlin conceded as he wound his red and gray striped fringe scarf around his neck. While the approaching winter chill left much to be desired, Merlin enjoyed breaking out his knit caps and brightly colored scarves. It added colored to the monotony of dark colored suits and starched dress shirts, which Merlin hated.

As the trio stepped into the cool night air, Merlin felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in months, he’d get to sleep in an actual bed without the added worry of waking to the sound of Freya’s anguished crying; plus there was Gwen’s cooking. Although Freya tried her best, her cooking usually left Merlin looking a little green around the gills and silently wishing for a quick and painless death.

“Takeaway or wild mushroom lasagna?” Gwen asked when they reached Lance’s car, a midnight blue Mazda CX-5. Although Gwen had hated the compact SUV on sight, she had quickly found a reason to like the compact SUV... the ease of transporting her gardening supplies.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Merlin replied as he opened the back passenger door and climbed in. The car’s back seat seemed to envelope him in its cloth, ergomatic form, providing some relief to the tension in his lower back.

Once she and Lance were in the car, Gwen glanced in the backseat, watching as Merlin leaned his head back and closed his eyes, seeming to slip into sleep. “It’s no trouble, besides I’m just reheating it,” she admitted.

“Oh,” Merlin sighed, opening his eyes briefly before closing them again. “In that case, I’ll take the lasagna.”

“Okay,” Gwen agreed, knowing that their conversation was finished for now. Merlin apparently wasn’t up for much in the way of talking, so Gwen decided to let him doze until they got home. Giving Lance a fond smile, Gwen laced their hands together and rested them against the gearshift before turning away to stare at the passing cityscape.

***

“What’s this?”

With an exasperated sigh, Morgana rolled her eyes and shook her head at her brother. Sometimes he didn’t understand the concept of a gift. “Open it and find out,” she replied sweetly, causing Arthur to become slightly fearful of what was inside.

When Morgana was in this kind of mood, Arthur was never sure of what to expect from her. The last time he had been in this kind of situation, Arthur had been 20 and on the wrong side of a pair of handcuffs. Luckily, the constable had decided to let him off with a warning.

Holding the corner between his index and thumb, Arthur carefully turned the white nondescript envelope over on the desk, examining it for any sign of suspicious markings. Once he deemed it a non-threat, Arthur slowly untucked the envelope’s flap and dumped its contents on his desk, revealing a lone ticket to an afternoon tea tour at the Royal Albert Hall.

“Morgana...” Arthur drawled curiously, even going as far to arch his eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well,” she started before dropping into the empty chair in front of his desk, “we decided that you need to get out more. All you seem to do is go to work then home.”

“I go out,” he insisted stubbornly. “And who’s we?” Arthur questioned, though he had no need to; her face gave away her co-conspirators.

“The odd pub night doesn’t count, Arthur,” Morgana retorted, her tone betraying her annoyance. “You’ve been home almost six weeks and--”

“Back. Morgana, I’m back. This isn’t my home.”

Resting her hand on Arthur’s, Morgana gave him a sad smile as she gently squeezed his knuckles. She hated that even after his death, Uther was still alive and well, living inside Arthur’s head, and causing him to doubt his own self worth. “We’re all worried about you.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to--”

“Prove Uther wrong,” Morgana finished for him. Closing her eyes momentarily, Morgana tried to calm her rising anger before opening them again and leveling Arthur with a hard stare. “You can’t do that, if you let this job consume you, Arthur. You’ll be proving the bastard right.”

“How do you figure?” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at her; her leaps in logic tended to leave him confused and a tad lost at times.

Breaking eye contact, Morgana turned her head away and licked her lips, gazing at a fixed point beyond Arthur’s ear as she tried to gather her thoughts. Arthur silently waited for her to speak and a few minutes later she did, twisting towards him. “From the moment you were born, Uther tried to mold you into his image… make you like him in every way; yet you always pushed back and did what you wanted to. Which is exactly what you did when you left here five years ago, Arthur.

I was so proud of you when you decided to leave, but I missed you too. I missed my little brother, who enjoyed pissing Uther off as much as I did. And while I’m not happy that his death brought you home, I can’t say that I’m upset by it. I might have understood your decision to leave; but Uther didn’t. He saw you as willful son, who wouldn’t fall in line like everyone else in his life.

I’m not asking you to make peace with that chapter of your life, Arthur. I’m asking that you prove Uther wrong, show that bastard it wasn’t him that chased you away. So here’s your chance to show him that you **want** to be here not that you have to be here.”

“You’re not making any sense, Ana,” Arthur informed her gently as though he was trying to spare her feelings.

Smiling sadly, Morgana patted his hand and told him, “I know. Just please do this for me?”

“All right, but only for you.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Morgana replied. “Besides I paid good money for that ticket and if you had told me no, we just might have a repeat of the _incident_ from childhood.” Subconsciously, Arthur crossed his legs, managing to hit his knee on the underside his desk as he did so. At hearing the dull thud, Morgana smiled and said, voice dripping with smugness, “Thought you might see it my way.”

“Good-bye, Morgana.”

Laughing gleefully, Morgana waggled her fingers at him as she flounced out of his office, clearly amused at some secret joke which only she was privy too. With a shake of his head, Arthur refocused on his briefs until a soft, “ow”, caused him to look up, watching as Merlin rubbed his leg where he seemed to have knocked it against the bookshelf.

“How are you still alive?”

“‘How are you still alive?’” Merlin mimicked as he dropped into his desk chair, pointedly ignoring Arthur’s mere presence. With a soft chuckle, Arthur returned his attention to his work; although it didn’t stop him from taking secret glances at Merlin, who had a faint blush staining his cheeks. It would seem that Arthur had either embarrassed the clerk or he had a more of an effect on Merlin than he’d originally thought.

Maybe there was an area he needed to explore a little further.

***

If asked later, Arthur wouldn’t fully understand why he used the ticket, although he would admit that he was glad he did. As soon as he arrived, he spotted a very familiar person dressed just as he had last seen him, except his suit jacket was gone and a black and white checkered scarf was tied around his neck.

Crossing the foyer, Arthur came to stand beside Merlin, silently waiting for his clerk to acknowledge him. There was a short pause before the clerk opened his mouth, “Leon or Morgana?”

“Morgana,” Arthur replied, then countered his question with one of his own. “Gwen?”

“Of course. We’ve been set up.”

Arthur laughed blandly and affirmed, “It would seem we have, so...”

“So,” Merlin repeated, rocking back on his heels as he glanced sideways at Arthur. “Is this a date?”

Turning towards Merlin, Arthur reached out and rested his hand on the clerk’s arm, stroking it gently as he murmured softly, “I think it’s whatever we make it, Merlin.” But instead of replying, Merlin simply grabbed Arthur’s wandering hand and tangled their fingers together as the guide motioned the gathered crowd closer, so she could begin the tour.

Later as they walked towards South Kensington station, Merlin groaned slightly as he rubbed his distended stomach. While the tour of Royal Albert Hall had been interesting, the highlight of the trip for Merlin was the full afternoon tea service. The pair had feasted on finger sandwiches, cakes, and scones with clotted cream. Arthur had never seen anyone so skinny eat so much before nor had he seen anyone blush as much as Merlin had when he had reached across to wipe a dot of cream from the tip of Merlin’s nose, cleaning the cream from his index finger with a swirl of his tongue.

Arthur chuckled softly at the sight Merlin made, chiding him gently, “Now you’re wishing you hadn’t pigged out on all those finger sandwiches?”

“Shut up,” Merlin grumbled in a fond tone, knocking his shoulder against Arthur as he made sure to keep hold of Arthur’s hand.

All throughout the tour, they had held hands while they teased and mocked each other, looking every bit like a happy couple to the rest of the tour group. For a couple of hours, Merlin and Arthur left their stresses at the door and simply enjoyed each other company, learning as much as they could about each other. Surprisingly enough, they discovered they were a lot more alike than they originally believed. Plus, Arthur finally learned Freya’s heartbreaking story.

With a hard tug, Merlin signaled Arthur to stop before pulling him closer and looping his free hand around the blonde’s neck. “And kiss me.”

“Gladly,” he murmured, grinning at Merlin before leaning forward, his mouth opening against the brunette’s soft yet slightly dry lips. As Arthur fell into the kiss, he couldn’t help but think Merlin might just be the reason he was looking for to stay in London. “My place or yours?” Arthur asked, his breath fluttering across Merlin’s swollen lips.

“Neither,” Merlin told him sadly. “I have to get home to Freya and I know that you have briefs to look over before court tomorrow.”

Although he hated to admit it, Merlin was right; they had responsibilities, which took priority. “Then dinner tomorrow night,” he offered in such a way that left no room for argument.

“We’ll see,” Merlin mused as he turned away from Arthur, clasping his hands behind his back as he wandered away.

“It wasn’t a question,” Arthur called back as he watched Merlin disappear. As much as he wanted to pull the clerk back to him and take him home, Arthur didn’t move to stop him. They both had responsibilities to get back too, unfortunately.

Pausing at the station entrance, Merlin turned on his heel and beamed cheekily, “I know,” before turning away again and disappearing into the crowd.


	5. Mithian's Favor

“Fancy seeing you here, Mithian,” Arthur drawled as a young and shapely brunette approached his table in a crowded eatery at lunchtime. There was a time when he would have made a show of checking her out, but time and Manhattan had made him comfortable in his own skin. Something Arthur wouldn’t have been if he had stayed under Uther’s thumb. “Did you make Leon cry?”

“Cry? Leon? You must be joking,” Mithian retorted, giving a humorless chuckle. “That man wouldn’t give you up under pain of death. Now Morgana on the other hand,” she continued with a devious grin.

Rolling his neck, Arthur tilted his head as he looked at her and asked, “What did you give her?” Before wincing as he mentally berated himself for asking the question. Morgana and Mithian had a strange friendship, one that seemed to border on love/hate.

“Nope,” she replied, making sure to pop her ‘p’ like she would bubble gum. “A girl needs to keep some of her secrets, Arthur.”

“If you say so,” Arthur countered in a bored tone. After picking up his fork, Arthur waved Mithian into the vacant chair across from him; he hated having to look up while trying to eat. “How may I be of service to you, Mithian?”

“Always a gentleman, Arthur, and in spite of Uther’s best efforts to the contrary.”

Arthur grinned at her obvious jab at Uther. On one hand, he could probably count the number of people, who had actually liked his father and sadly, Morgana and he just barely made that list. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Mithian scrunched her nose and pouted mournfully, “Well you’re no fun,” before reaching into her oversized purse and pulling out a set of files.  “His name is Mordred Blethyn and –“

“So this is a favor,” Arthur crew, earning a scowl from Mithian. “I thought you weren’t one for favors.”

“Shut up, Arthur and don’t be a prat for once.”

Arthur shot her a slightly apologetic look and wondered aloud, “Why does everyone think I’m a prat? My own clerk seems to call me it every hour on the hour. It’s either that or clotpole.” However by this point, Mithian didn’t need to know that they were more terms of endearment than actual insults.

“How is Merlin?” Mithian asked in an amused tone, not bothering to smother her laughter.

“Does everyone know him?”

“Leon tried a couple of cases for me in the past,” the solicitor explained. “He was sweet and unfortunately completely unavailable.”

“Yeah, Freya,” Arthur replied with a nod of head, deciding to play the ignorance card. After all, everyone knew Arthur to be a self-absorbed ass, so why not pretend to know absolutely nothing about his clerk.

“No, tragically gay… much like you,” Mithian stated matter-of-factly, though she did pout a little as she said it.

Arthur tilted his to the right and silently stared at her for a couple of minutes before responding. “Then who’s Freya?”

“His best friend’s widow,” Mithian said, sounding a little annoyed for having to answer his question. “How long as Merlin been your clerk?”

“Umm,” Arthur started, his eyes narrowing as he mentally counted the weeks since he came to Camelot Chambers. “About six weeks?”

“Have you even spoken to the man?” Mithian asked, mentally rolling her eyes at the blonde. While Arthur still wasn’t an exact clone of Uther, he did seem to pick up a few of Uther’s less than flattering traits—mainly his ability to be self-centered and oblivious to those around him.

“Other than to exchange insults and the occasional work related request… no.”

Mithian sighed deeply then leaned forward, placing her open hand on Arthur’s cheek and patted it. “You’re an idiot. You do know that right.”

Arthur ducked his head and didn’t say anything; instead he pushed his plate forward and grabbed the file she had set near her elbow.  After a quick flick through its pages, Arthur set it back on the table and folded his arms across it.

“Explain it to me.”

“You can read it yourself; it’s all right there,” Mithian replied in a tone that let Arthur know that she wasn’t a fan of his laziness as she gestured to the file between them.

“I know, but you know the client and only facts are in this report,” Arthur countered. “So tell me the story as you know it.” So with a shrug of her shoulders, Mithian leaned back and began to tell Arthur everything related to her client’s case.

As Mithian systemically laid out the facts of Mordred’s case, Arthur could feel the laughter at the back of his throat. Never had he heard a story so stupidly funny before and he’d lived in New York City for almost five years.

“They call themselves the Druids and sell a club drug called, pixie dust...” Arthur repeated slowly, once Mithian had finished her tale. There was no way he had heard her correctly. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

Mithian grinned at Arthur’s attempt to not laugh and said, “I wish I was. I almost lost it at the police station when Tristan told me.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or sadden by their seeming lack of imagination?”

“They think it’s ironic.”

“Are they aware of what that word actually means?”

“She ruined that word for an entire generation, so tragic.” Mithian remarked, though it didn’t stop her from humming the chorus of the song in question.

Arthur groaned and said, “Stop singing, Mithian. You’re tone deaf and I don’t want that song stuck in my head for the rest of the day.”

“You’re so mean, Arthur.” Mithian whined, pouting at the man she had once dreamed of marrying while they were in their first year of university. Then shortly afterwards she had found out he was gay and nothing really changed, except for them growing closer as friends.

“So Morgana continues to tell me,” Arthur quipped, causing Mithian to roll her eyes. “What’s the deal with this kid?”

“He’s being charged with possession of a Class A drug with the intent to supply,” she repeated slowly as though Arthur was a child; Mithian knew he had her the first time she had told him.

This time Arthur rolled his eyes. “I know all that. Home life, Mithian. What’s his situation?”

“He’s a sixteen year old runaway,” Mithian began, pausing only long enough for Arthur to motion with his hand for her to continue. “Mordred’s mother walked out on him when he was four, leaving him in the care of his grandmother. Unfortunately, when she passed away about four years ago, Mordred entered the foster care system and after a string of group homes and foster homes, he ran away at fourteen and joined this street gang.”

With a nod of his head, Arthur leaned back in his chair and thumbed to the last page of the file. “And your friends Tristan and Isolde?”

“They run a charity for runaway and homeless youths. They’re goal is to provide a safe haven while helping to rehabilitate them,” Mithian briefly explained before digging around in her purse for the organization’s brochure. No matter what, she somehow always managed to have one or two on her at any given time.

Taking the offered brochure from Mithian, Arthur silently read the inside of it before flipping it over. “Sounds idealistic,” Arthur replied blandly. “But I’ll take the case.”

Mithian smiled her thanks as she retrieved her bag from the floor. As she started to walk away, Mithian stopped and turned, glancing back at Arthur and surmised, “You’re not the Arthur that left.”

“I’m not,” Arthur agreed, quirking his lips slightly in an almost smile. To the rest of the world, he might look like the same Arthur, but only those closest to him could see the difference... could see the inner peace he had found while in America.

Wagging her index finger playfully at him, Mithian said, “I like this Arthur better.”

“Funny,” Arthur countered, “me too.” The solicitor grinned and chuckled to herself at his response before she started to walk away again.

“Mithian?” Arthur called out, causing her to stop and turn toward him, her facial expression silently asking what else he needed from her. “Who should I talk to first? The kid or youth advocates?”

“Tristan and Isolde,” she replied, fluttering her fingers at him over her shoulder as she left the restaurant and as she did, she made sure to put a little more sass in her sashay.  

Once Mithian was gone, Arthur glanced at his watch, taking note of the time because he was due back at the office soon for a meeting with his fellow barristers. Plus, Arthur didn’t trust Merlin not to rage war against his side of the office, even if they were now sort of... kind of dating. The first and only time Arthur had taken a long lunch, the barrister had returned to find that Merlin had managed to booby-trap in his desk during his absence. Never again, Arthur had decided, even if George had been on the receiving end.

“Check please,” Arthur told a passing waitress, who simply nodded her head in reply and walked off.

***

“Have a good lunch, sire?” Merlin asked as soon as Arthur returned, who didn’t bother to hide his eye roll at Merlin’s tone. Well it was either that or kiss the sneer off his face and Arthur had no desire to be told off by Morgana for sexually harassing his barristers’ clerk, even if they’d shared a couple of kisses and dinner dates over the pass week.  

While there wasn’t anything stopping inter-office romances from happening, they were frowned upon especially when they were between barristers and clerks. The only reason Lance and Gwen had been able to skirt the system was due to their pre-existing relationship before Lance had joined chambers.

“Adequate,” Arthur returned with a tone bordering on the almost regal. “How about you, peasant?”

Narrowing his eyes, Merlin glared at Arthur before dropping the stack of files in his hands on the blonde’s desk. “The briefings you wanted,” Merlin replied barely holding back his smile.

“Thanks, Merlin.”

“You’re welcome...” Merlin replied carefully, slightly suspicious as to why Arthur was thanking him. The barrister had never thanked him before and Merlin couldn’t see a reason why he would start now.

“I’m not going to kill you during your daily nap, Merlin,” Arthur teased.

“Hey! I don’t nap!”

Arthur laughed, giving Merlin’s neck an affectionate squeeze, and teased, “Tell that to the puddle of drool on your desk.”

Sticking his tongue out, Merlin crossed his arms and gave a small humph as he shrugged Arthur’s warm hand off his neck. As much as he liked Arthur touching him, Merlin couldn’t run the risk of letting him get too close; otherwise, he just might give into temptation and jump him then and there. That was the main reason for Merlin’s continuing fake animosity towards the blonde while they were at work.

“What’s that in your hand?” Merlin asked, flapping his hand at the folder Arthur was still holding. While it technically wasn’t any of his business, Merlin couldn’t help his curiosity because Arthur had left with nothing but himself and his coat.

“A favor from Mithian,” Arthur told him as he placed the folder in question on his desk.

“How is she?”

“Good,” Arthur said before adding with a quirk of his eyebrow, “she asked about you.”

Merlin grunted and bowed his head, seeming hard at work, but Arthur knew different. A Merlin hard at work, meant a frazzled Merlin... hair slightly messed from repeated hair pulling, deep worry lines between his eyes, and swollen lips from continuing biting. Yet, this Merlin was calm, bordering on mischievously teasing if his fleeting eye glances were anything go by.

Grinning softly, Arthur dropped into his chair and logged onto his computer, intending to search for further information about the charity and its organizers. However, before launching his web browser, he opened Outlook and shot off a quick email:

 

 **Date:** 21/08/2013 1:20 PM

 **To:** emrys.mer@camelot.co.uk

 **From:** pendragon.art@camelot.co.uk

 **Subject:** Busy?

Dinner? Tonight? 7:30?

A.

 

 **Date:** 21/08/2013 1:22 PM

 **To:** pendragon.art@camelot.co.uk

 **From:** emrys.mer@camelot.co.uk

 **Subject:** re: Busy?

Coupons to McDonalds then?

 

Arthur barked out a laugh, shaking his head, which caused Merlin to pause and raise his head, giving Arthur a sly smile and brazen wink. Deciding to ignore the blatant cheekiness--for now, Arthur focused on gaining background information on this Tristan and Isolde before he called to set up a meeting. While a lot of barristers took a hands-off approach with the solicitors acting as the mediator, Arthur found he fought harder for his client when he actually knew them and not just the facts of their case.

****

**_About Us_ **

_Founded in 1998, Cornwall House’s mission has been to assist young people in achieving their full potential. Our main focus is on providing a safe environment for them to live and learn as they work to transform their lives. In conjunction with local and regional organizations, we reach around 30,000 youths each year._

_By working with a wide range of public, private and voluntary partners, we give young people the corner stones for a healthy life:_

  * _sanctuary: protection from the perils of life on the streets_
  * _structure: stability to build a positive future_
  * _choice: the chance to decide their own fate_



_As we work to encourage young people to believe in themselves and foster their confidence, we offer them the opportunity to:_

  * _experience the benefits of education_
  * _take action to improve their communities_
  * _reap the benefits of healthy activities_



**_Our Vision_ **

_Everyone has a place to call home and a stake in their community_

**_Our Mission_ **

_To offer homeless and disadvantaged youth the opportunity to fulfill their potential and move towards an independent and positive future_

**_Our Values_ **

_Our key values and indicators underpin all of the work we do:_

  * _We celebrate the potential of people_
  * _We put our words into action_
  * _We aim to take a wider role in civil society_
  * _We believe in rights and responsibilities_



 

After skimming the page, Arthur grabbed the brochure and dialed the number Mithian had scrawled across the photo of the charity’s building in neat, blocky letters.

“Tristan Waylet speaking,” a gruff voice barked.

“Hello, this is Arthur Pendragon. Mithian passed your number on to me,” Arthur began, “and before I agree to represent Mordred, I’d like to meet with you.”

Through the phone’s receiver, Arthur could hear the shuffling of paper before man’s voice was replaced by a pleasant and slightly upbeat female voice. “Sorry about him, he’s a grouch if he doesn’t have his morning coffee.”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“A delayed reaction,” she quipped and to Arthur’s ears it sounded as though she wasn’t quite sure if she was asking or stating a fact. “So, I’m to understand that you’re a barrister that Mithian has arranged for Mordred.”

Arthur nodded his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “I am  the barrister, but as I told Tristan, I’d like to meet with him and Is-Isolde,” Arthur stuttered as he squinted at the brochure, “first before deciding to take the case.”

“Oh, sorry, this is Isolde speaking,” she told him, voice sounding every bit apologetic for not introducing herself over the phone. “When is good for you?”

Humming under his breath, Arthur quickly checked his calendar and said, “How’s Thursday at ten for you?”

“Sounds good. And you’re sure you can find us?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yes, and if I get lost... I have GPS.”

“The best invention to date,” Isolde agreed. “Or at least my husband seems to think so.”

“Good man.”

“I like to think so,” Isolde conceded before the sound of voices began to bleed through their connection. “We’ll see you on Thursday, Arthur. Ta.”

“Goodbye,” Arthur repeated before hanging up the phone.

“Shall I put that in your calendar, sire?” Merlin jested, beaming at Arthur as he spoke.

“I’ve got it, peasant,” Arthur replied, “although, thanks for the offer.” With a sly smirk, Arthur turned away, his attention already focused on Mordred’s file as mentally prepared himself for his meeting with Tristan and Isolde, two days from now.


	6. The Client

“No running, Daegal,” a youngish blonde woman admonished when a lanky, dark haired teenager knocked into Arthur as he was entering the nondescript building. If it wasn’t for fact that he knew what the lay inside the building, Arthur would’ve never known it was a refuge for homeless and runaway youths.

Stepping out of the way, Arthur waited until the boy had cleared the doorway before holding out his hand for the blonde woman to shake. “Arthur Pendragon. Isolde?”

“Hello. Pleased to meet you, Arthur,” she replied as she showed her hands to Arthur. “I’d shake your hand, but we’re kind of in the middle of an art project.”

“Walls or pictures?” Arthur questioned, generally curious as to cause behind the bright blue paint on her hands.

“A little bit of both at the moment,” Isolde replied with an amused smile. “Andrea,” she said, stopping a passing girl. “Could you show Mr. Pendragon into my office and get him a cup of tea.”

A teenage girl with honey blonde hair, streaked purple, smiled and nodded her head. “Follow me, Mister,” she softly commanded, earning Arthur an apologetic smile from Isolde. Though, Arthur wasn’t the least bit bothered by it. During his time in New York, Arthur had been called worse by some of the kids he had been trying to help. In retrospect, mister was actually respectful, in his opinion.

As the pair walked in silence, Arthur’s eyes drifted along the hallway, taking in the bright colors and hand painted murals; it was a complete disconnect from the building’s plain brick facade.

“How do ya take your tea,” the teenager asked, popping her gum, “or would ya like a coffee?” She finished, looking a tad pensive while tilting her head and waiting for Arthur’s response.

“Tea’s fine, a splash of milk and one sugar, Miss...” Arthur asked, his voice trailing off as he fished for the teenager’s name.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she giggled into her hand and then said, “I ain’t no Miss, Mister. But you can call me Drea; all my mates do.” And with a cheeky grin, Drea turned on her heel and left, calling out a rushed, “one cuppa coming up.”

“Interesting girl,” Arthur murmured as he set his briefcase down on a small round table which had been strategically placed in the center of the room. On either side of the conference table, two desks were pushed close to the wall. One looked clean and well organized while the other seemed to have been caught in a small tornado with papers flung this way and that. It was clear to Arthur that two different personalities shared this office, much like his own office.

“So you’re the barrister,” an older man stated as he walked in, sparing Arthur only a quick glance before returning his attention to the papers in his hand. After dropping the stack on the clean desk, he turned and locked eyes with Arthur, holding out his hand. “Tristan Waylet; we spoke briefly on Tuesday.”

Arthur gave a small nod. “Shall we get started or would you rather wait for Isolde?”

“Let’s get started,” he replied and motioned Arthur into one of the vacant chairs. A soft knock caused them to pause and glance at the open doorway where Drea was waiting patiently with Arthur’s cup of tea. “What is it Drea?”

“I just came to give Mr. Pendragon his tea,” Drea replied, giving Tristan a shy smile as she set the tea on the table before scurrying out of the room again.

It was only after she was gone that Tristan turned and looked at Arthur again. Clasping his fingers together, Tristan asked, “Why did you want to meet with us?”

“I’ve been reading Mordred’s file and I just want to know that this place has his best interests at heart.”

“Since when do barristers care about their clients?” Tristan challenged, skeptical of Arthur’s presence in his office.

Arthur laughed at the not-so subtle insult, yet he didn’t take it to heart. “I specialized in family and youth law in New York.”

“In that case, what do you want to know?”

“What’s the plan for Mordred after I get him off?” Arthur asked matter-of-factly before pausing to take a sip of his tea.

Tristan sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “We’re going to work towards him taking his GCSEs and then all we can do is go from there. He’s not a dumb kid, just a product of circumstances,” he explained.

“I can see that,” Arthur agreed, referring to the practice GCSEs scores which Mithian had included in Mordred’s case file. With a case like this, the defense’s main goal was to prove that the offense was a lapse in judgment and that the defendant fully intended to walk the straight and narrow now. And in order to prove it, Arthur needed to show the magistrates that arrangements were in place for Mordred’s rehabilitation. “Do you mind showing me around, so I can write the best possible argument for why Mordred should be released into your custody?”

“Of course,” Tristan replied with a small quirk of his lips. “I’ll go relieve Isolde and she’ll give you the tour.”

“Not much for waxing poetry then?” Arthur joked, causing Tristan to merely arch a lone eyebrow at Arthur, who countered with an embarrassed frown when his joke fell flat. Grabbing his half-empty mug of tea, Arthur rose from his chair, following Tristan out of the office and through a series of winding hallways.

Leaving Arthur just inside the doorway, Tristan crossed the common area, which was draped in sheets, to where Isolde and a group of teenagers were busy turning a plain white wall into an abstract, yet vibrant London skyline. At the moment, the wall was an array of pinks, purples, and blues as the night sky gave away to a pencil sketch of Tower Bridge and the River Thames. And along the bottom, where the River Thames would eventually be painted, a quote had been painstakingly etched in black:

_Life is a struggle; a school; a test of fitness._

_No struggle, no school. No school, no fitness._

_No fitness, no future—either in this world or in any that may follow._

_–John Rankin Rogers_

Leaning close to his wife’s ear, Tristan whispered a few words and took the paintbrush from her with a grumpy smile, which caused Isolde to smile and press a kiss to his lips.

“Poetic,” Arthur remarked with a nod of his head, referring to the quote below the cityscape taking shape before his very eyes.

“We thought so,” Isolde replied, pulling a rag from her pocket and wiping her hands with it. “Tristan said that you still have questions about our work here...”

With a half shrug and an apologetic smile, Arthur affirmed, “I do, but I’m happy to discuss them as we take our tour.”

“Sure, shall we?” Isolde asked and gestured back out into the hallway before pausing, raising her hand to him. “Wait, I guess I need to start here first. When there’s not paint and drop cloths everywhere, this is our common area where kids can come to play games, socialize or use the computers to work on their schoolwork.”

“Do the kids receive any tutoring or extra help with their studies?”

“They do,” Isolde affirmed. “Tristan helps with maths and sciences, while I attempt to help with everything else. And if that fails, there are a couple of retired teachers, who happily volunteer their time.”

“Oh,” Arthur said slowly, unsure of how to reply; instead he decided to move their tour forward. “Where to next?”

“Eager, aren’t we? I like it.” Isolde grinned. It was nice to see a barrister, who took an interest in his client; Mithian definitely picked a good one. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where the kids eat and sleep.” With a nod of his head, Arthur fell into step with Isolde as she led the way through the slightly confusing hallways.

***

“Hello Mordred,” Mithian greeted when she and Arthur entered the small meeting room of the youth detention centre, where a sullen teenager was not so patiently waiting for their arrival. As he took his seat, Arthur made a quick assessment of bruises on the black haired teenager’s face, which appeared to be at least a week old, if the yellowing color was any indication.

While Arthur expected Mithian to jump right in with the introductions, instead, she reached out and grabbed the teen’s chin, turning his head from side to side as she examined his bruise patterns. “Who did this to you?”

Mordred snorted and jerked out her hand, leaning back in his chair as he glared at them through hooded eyes. With an exasperated sigh, Mithian dropped her hand, resting it briefly on her briefcase before pulling out her copy of his file. “Mordred, I’d like you to meet Arthur Pendragon. He’s agreed to be your barrister.”

“So this suited-up tosser is supposed to get me off or send me up the river?”

Mithian sighed again, giving Arthur an apologetic smile for her client’s behavior. Silently counting to ten, Mithian quelled her anger before speaking again. “Morderd, he’s here to help. Let him.”

“I can’t pay him,” Mordred retorted, drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he pretended to ignore the pair. He wanted to be anywhere but there. As much as Mithian tried to demonstrate her sincerity, Mordred refused to trust her. It’s not like the system hadn’t failed him already with a succession of horrendous group and foster homes.

“And I’m not looking to get paid, Mordred. I’m here to represent you before the Magistrates’ Court,” Arthur explained gently yet firmly. Mordred needed to understand that Arthur wasn’t getting anything out of this arrangement, except the satisfaction that Mordred was going to have a second chance at a better life.

“Everything has a price,” Mordred told him in a skeptical tone. There was no way Mordred was going to be suckered into believing anything that came out of Arthur’s mouth. He’d been down that road already; it’s how he ended up in a street gang selling drugs, which eventually got him caught.

Arthur chuckled humorlessly and said, “This doesn’t.”

Mordred snorted again, yet leaned closer, silently telling the pair he was ready to listen to what Arthur had to say. Clapping his hands, Arthur set to work outlining the best possible defense for the teen. After he finished, Arthur gazed at Mordred, waiting for his response.

“So basically, I gotta plead for the magistrates’ mercy and promise to abide by any and all of Tristan and Isolde’s terms and conditions.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but essentially… yes,” Arthur affirmed with a bark of laugher. “I need your agreement that you’ll do everything I tell you.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.”

“Glad to hear it, Mordred,” Mithian replied, cutting Arthur off and speaking for the first time since Arthur started talking. “Your hearing is set for next Wednesday and Tristan promised to bring you a pair of trousers and a dress shirt to wear.”

“Mithian!” Mordred exclaimed, scandalized by the mere idea of being forced to wear formal attire.

Giving the teenager a look of reproach, Mithian told him bluntly, “You have to make a good impression with the magistrates and funnily enough, a suit does it.” Mordred growled low in his throat and bared his teeth at Mithian, who simply ignored his oddly delivered contempt.

“I’ll come by and see you on Monday, Mordred,” she informed him and then rose from her chair. “Try to stay out of trouble, please. I’d rather not have you show up looking like someone put you through the ringer.”

“You should see the other guy,” Mordred joked, looking very pleased with himself as he leaned back in his chair again, placing his hands behind his head. Arthur could remember being that guy, smug and without self-preservation; yet it appeared Mordred was a smarter teenager than Arthur had been. He clearly understood what kind of life he’d have if he didn’t try to fix his life now.

Although, instead of commenting further Mithian knocked on the door and waited for the guard on the other side to open it. Once they had cleared the room, following the guard back towards the detention centre’s entrance, Arthur glanced at Mithian and said, “He’s something.”

“A good kid, Arthur, just a little rough around the edges,” Mithian reminded him gently as her mind recalled memories of a teenager not much different. However, that boy had money, something that Mordred hadn’t ever really had.

“I know,” he replied, nudging her in the arm. “Late lunch?”

“Only if you’re buying.”

Arthur chuckled and said, “But of course.”

***

“Number three on the list, your worship, Mordred Blethyn represented by Arthur Pendragon,” the usher said, addressing the three magistrates as well as the rest of the courtroom, which looked newer than some of the courtrooms Arthur had previously been in. Instead of the dark wood and old world feel which was usually found in crown courts, this room had light colored walls and paneling, making it feel more open than oppressive like in crown courts.

Tilting his head up, Arthur leveled a look at Mordred, who was in the docket in front of the defendant’s table. With a mental tick, Arthur checked the courtroom layout as another backwards detail about the British legal system; a client should have the ability to aid his barrister in his defense throughout the whole of the trial, as opposed to only during adjournments. With a turn of his head, Arthur’s gaze fell back to the magistrates: an older woman with golden red hair; a slightly balding white man; and a fortyish looking black man.

“State your name and address for the court,” The court clerk intoned, eyes every wavering as he gazed directly at Mordred.

“Mordred Blethyn and I live at…” Mordred started then paused, gripping the side of the docket as he recalled exactly what Mithian and Arthur had instructed him to say when asked by the court clerk. With a small cough, Mordred cleared his throat and stated, “I have no legal residence; I am homeless.”

“It is said that on June 14th, you were found to be in possession of a quantity of a Class ‘A’ drug Pixie Dust with intent to supply that drugs to others. Do you understand the charge?”

Looking straight ahead at the court clerk, Mordred answered, “Yes.”

“Under the law, the office to which you are charged with can either by heard by the magistrates of this court or by a judge and jury in crow court. Do you understand that which I have just stated?”

With a quick glance at Arthur, who nodded his head, Mordred said, “Yes.”

“In a moment I will ask whether you intend to plead guilty or not guilty to the charges being brought against you. If you plead guilty, your sentence will either be handed down here by the gathered magistrates or, if it is a case where their powers are not sufficient, then you’ll be transferred to crown court for sentencing. Also by entering an early guilty plea, you’ll receive credit which may reduce the amount of time on your sentence by a one third. Mordred, do you understand everything that I have just explained to you?”

“Yes.”

“If you choose to enter a not guilty plea, or no plea, then this court will begin its proceedings, hearing all the facts of the case to determine the venue for your trial. If this venue is found suitable to hear the charges laid against you, then you will be given the final choice of having your case heard before the panel or before a judge and jury in crown court. Do you have understand everything that I have just explained to you?”

“Yes, I’ve discussed this with my barrister,” Mordred stated after receiving another brief nod from Arthur, which he returned with a small smile.

“In that case, what is your plea to the charges?” The clerk asked.

“Guilty,” Mordred told the court; his hands once again tightening on the docket railing, a clear sign of his nervousness.

The lead magistrate, the older woman with golden red hair, turned to Mordred and leveled her gaze at him. “You may return to your seat, Mordred.”

Once in his chair, Mordred hunched his shoulders and gazed out onto the audience, where Tristan and Isolde were seated with Mithian. They had given him their support and then only asked for his trust, which they placed in Mithian, so Mordred had to trust that Arthur was as good as Mithian claimed he was.

Raising her index and middle finger, the female magistrate signaled to the Crown prosecutor, a young Indian man similar in age to Arthur, that he could begin his opening statement. “Your worships, I would like to make an application for adjournment until the time I can submit a notice of transfer to the court.”

“A notice of transfer, what the hell for?” Arthur exclaimed jumping from his seat in anger as he momentarily forgot his place; the stiffness of the English court system was one thing that Arthur hadn’t missed. Though, a single glare from the lead magistrate had Arthur quickly returning to his seat, a little embarrassed for having allowed himself to break protocol.

 “Please explain, Mr. Kar.”

Clearing his throat and shuffling the pages in front of him, the barrister said, “This morning I was handed new information related to the defendant in another case and as such, I wish to file a notice of transfer to crown court due to the seriousness of the crime.”

“And what is this crime?”

“Murder, your worships,” Mr. Kar answered matter-of-factly. “Mordred Blethyn’s prints were taken at the time of his arrest and the police have been able to identify them as prints matching those found at a murder committed in Liverpool over four months ago.”

“Mr. Pendragon, do you have any objections to an adjournment,” she questioned, choosing her words carefully so not to give Arthur any room to argue against a non-existent notice of transfer.

“No, your worships,” Arthur told her, sighing a little as he did so.

“Mordred, please stand,” she stated before turning her attention away from him and addressing the barristers directly. “This case will adjourn until the 18th of next month, at which time I expect an application of notice of transfer to be file, Mr. Kar, and for Mr. Pendragon to have readied his statements. During this period, Mordred will continue to be remanded to custody. Ladies and Gentleman, court adjourned.”

With her speech finished, the trio rose from their chairs and quietly exited the courtroom; it was only after their departure did Arthur move over to the docket to speak quickly to Mordred before he was returned to the holding cells. “We’ll see you in a couple of minutes, Mordred and get this sorted, all right?”

“I didn’t do it, Arthur,” Mordred whispered, dazed by the charge being leveled against him.

“We’ll figure it out, kid,” Arthur promised with a pat on the shoulder for good measure. However, if Arthur was honest with himself, he wasn’t so sure who he was trying to reassure more, Mordred or himself. A minor in possession of drugs was an easy fix; a minor involved in a murder was a wholly different matter, especially if the barrister secretly questioned his ability to defend the boy.


	7. A Matter of Fact

“You can’t possibly be serious! He’s a cold-blooded murderer, Arthur!”

“And yet he’s my client. I don’t tell you how to your job, so don’t tell me how to do mine.” Arthur leveled back, voice deadly cold as he calmly regarded Merlin. He didn’t stand by and let Uther dictate his life, so who the hell did Merlin think he was to do the same.

As the pair continued to fight, Mithian and Leon watched, taking in the scene unfolding before their very eyes. When she had stopped by to check on how Arthur was getting on with Mordred’s case, Mithian hadn’t expected to be treated to a free show. Turning her gaze from the battling pair, Mithian glanced towards Leon and asked offhandedly, “Are they always like this?”

“Today’s worse," Leon informed her, silently deciding to keep to himself his suspicious of there being more to their relationship than boss and subordinate.

Over the last couple of weeks there had been a gradual change in Arthur’s behavior, which Leon could only assume meant Arthur was dating. And since Arthur hadn’t told him anything of the sort, Leon theorized that he was seeing someone from their office... which could only mean Merlin. “Tea?”

“Coffee would be lovely.”

“Sooo," Leon drawled, "how are you and your baby daddy?” With a fond laugh, Mithian slapped Leon on the arm as they walked out, leaving Arthur and Merlin to their fighting. As much as the chambers hated to hear their raised voices, everyone had come to realize that it was better to let them get it out of their systems because after the yelling stopped there would be silence and clipped words. A much better deal for everyone involved.

“As your clerk, I’m telling you that taking this case is a bad career move,” Merlin told Arthur, deciding to try reasoning with him if the yelling wouldn't work.

“I’m taking this kid’s case.”

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Some kid, he’s almost 18.”

“Who’s been given a piss-poor hand in life; the least I can do is help him out,” Arthur pointed out in attempt to make Merlin understand why he needed to take this case.

“Hoping that he’ll repay you by sucking your cock?”

“Get out,” Arthur ordered, voice eerily calm, as he glared Merlin down, almost daring the clerk to say something further.

“Arthur, I’m so—“

“Get the hell out of my office… NOW,” he said, interrupting Merlin’s attempt at an apology. Arthur was in no mood to hear it, especially when it was uttered in guilt rather than sincerity.

“Arth—” Merlin tried again, not quite begging for Arthur to listen to him...  to allow him to apologize for being out of line.

Glancing away from Merlin, Arthur closed the case file on his desk and quietly informed him, “Count yourself lucky, I won’t be reporting you to Gaius. Now go.”

And with that, Merlin stumbled out of their office in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He hadn’t meant to look at the notice of transfer on Arthur’s desk, but he’d never been able to say no to his unyielding curiosity. If only he hadn’t peeked, Merlin wouldn’t know what he knew now because right under the notice of transfer was the brief detailing the evidence related to the crime, including the victim’s name, …Will’s name, Merlin’s best friend and the father of Freya’s unborn child.

After making his way into the clerks’ main office, Gwen caught Merlin’s elbow, noticing how pale he looked. “Merlin what was all that yelling? Are you alright?”

“I screwed up, Gwen,” Merlin told her as she steered him into a nearby chair. With a quick glance at Bronwen, a fellow clerk, Gwen silently motioned her to get Merlin a cup of tea as she tried to understand what had actually transpired between Merlin and Arthur.

“I’m sure it’s not all that bad. I mean, Arthur did forgive you for spilling coffee on him right before he had court. I’m sure he’ll forgive you for this.”

Merlin shook his head and pushed himself out the chair, throwing Gwen a hasty, “I need to get out of here,” over his shoulder as he bolted for the door. Without trying to stop him, Gwen watched him, worrying her lip as he left.

“What was that about?” Gaius asked as he stuck his head out of his office, jarring Gwen from her quiet mediation. Like the rest of the suite, he’d heard the raised voices, but hadn’t been able to make out what Arthur and Merlin were arguing about.

“Honestly Gaius, your guess is as good as mine,” she informed her boss, who tilted his head at her, and then started across the room, making his way toward Arthur’s office. Knocking softly on the door, Gaius waited for permission to enter before pushing the door open. As he entered, his eyes drifted across the cramp space, landing on a miserable looking Arthur, who had his head buried in his hands.

“Sir, are you alright?” Gaius asked tentatively, worried about startling the young barrister. It was a scene much too reminiscent of all the times Gaius had came across a young Arthur fresh after a fight with Uther.

“Do I look alright, Gaius?” Arthur spat without glancing up. Rubbing his hands across his face and then through his hair, Arthur looked at Gaius, giving the older man a very sheepish expression. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,”

“No harm done, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” Gaius asked softly, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited for Arthur’s reply.

Huffing out a humorless laugh, Arthur shook his head. “Besides getting me a new clerk then no.”

“A new clerk is manageable, sir,” Gaius informed him. As much as it pained him to do it, especially when it was his own godson, if a barrister was unhappy with his clerk then it was Gaius’ duty to fix it. “Though if you don’t mind me saying, I thought you and Merlin were finally getting along.”

“Well, he just torpedoed that,” Arthur told him, earning a questioning look from Gaius, which he quickly waved away. “Doesn’t matter, Gaius. When can my new clerk start?”

‘I’ll have to shuffle some people around, but you’ll have him by the end of the week, sir.”

Arthur nodded and said, “Thank you, Gaius.’

“No thanks needed, sir,” Gaius replied, effectively dismissing his thanks. It was Gaius’ responsibility to ensure the chamber’s barristers were happy with the services the clerking staff provided.  “Can I get sir anything else?”

“Maybe see if Gwen can grab me a coffee from the shop on the corner…and possibly one of their muffins?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Tell her she’s a doll.”

“You can tell her yourself when she delivers it, sir,” Gaius quipped dryly, causing Arthur to crack a small smile, which seemed to lighten the atmosphere of the room.

With a last look at the young barrister, Gaius made his way out of the office and relayed Arthur’s request to Gwen, who had been patiently waiting for him. Once Gwen had left, Gaius crossed the room and tapped George on the shoulder, motioning for the man to follow him. As much as he would like Merlin to continue clerking for Arthur, if Arthur didn’t want his godson then Gaius’ hands were tied.

***

“Mum?”

“Merlin? Is everything okay? Is it Freya?” Hunith asked, her voice bordering on frantic thru their phone connection. While she had always seen her son’s kind heart as a strength, Hunith couldn’t say that she was exactly happy with his loyalty to Freya. The shy girl had blossomed into an independent and capable woman; yet Hunith could see a streak of ambivalence in her behavior, which worried Hunith. To honest, she had a strong suspicion this would end badly for Merlin.

Taking a seat on a nearby park bench, Merlin leaned his head back and said, “Everyone’s fine, mum. I just called to hear your voice.” From the moment he left chambers, Merlin had started walking, zigzagging through the streets until he reached the water’s edge, the best place to just sit and think.

“Oh, you silly boy. Don’t scare me like that,” she chided her son, but it did little to hide the worry in her voice.

“Sorry, mum.”

“Merlin, are you sure everything is alright? You don’t normally call during the day, much less in the middle of the week,” Hunith pointed out as gently as she could. If she was reading the situation right, then one wrong word could make Merlin become very excitable... something she didn’t want to happen.

Merlin shrugged then said, “I’m just having one of those days, you know…”

“Is this about Arthur?”

“Why could it possibly be about Arthur?”

“Because Gaius has told me some things--”

“Well, whatever he told you, he’s wrong.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Hunith warned. “You called me, remember.”

“Sorry, mum.”

“It’s okay, love. Now why did you call?”

“I said something terrible and now-- GUH... I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what I told you when you were little: all you can do is apologize and see if they’re willing to forgive you,” she advised him, even though she was curious as to what his and Arthur’s argument was about, however, Hunith knew better than to pry. “But Merlin, I’m sure whatever you said wasn’t so terrible.”

“Oh, but it was. I’ll spare you the details of what I said, because you’re my mum and it’s something no one should ever say to their mum.”

Hunith chuckled and said, “Alright, love. My piece of advice to you is, as long as you’re sincere in your apology, Arthur has to forgive you.”

“Arthur doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.” Merlin snorted with an eye roll.

“True,” Hunith conceded, a little distracted by the noise Merlin could hear thru the call’s connection. “Sorry, dear, I’m going to have to let you go. I have customers in need of me. Give me a bell later and let me know how it went.”

“Bye, mum.”

“Bye, love.”

***

“Now that the yelling has stopped, do I need to find you a good criminal defense solicitor?” Morgana teased, poking her head inside Arthur’s office. “I’m sure Godwyn or I can drum one up in record time.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur didn’t bother looking at his sister as he grumbled heatedly, “Piss off, Morgana.”

“Oh! Someone’s in a foul mood. Want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” Arthur sighed. “How can I help you?” He finally asked, knowing Morgana wouldn’t leave until she got what she wanted from him, even if Arthur didn’t want to give it to her.

Pushing the door open further, Morgana crossed to Arthur’s guest chair and sat. “I just came to chat.”

“I seem to recall chatting not being one of your strong suits; demands, arguments, and browbeating have always been more your style.”

“I heard that you’re taking this kid’s case pro-bono,” Morgana replied, choosing instead to ignore his remark. Clicking her tongue between her teeth, Morgana gestured to the file laid out across his desk and jokingly asked, “Trying to improve your karma, little brother?”

“Right…” Arthur drawled, not at all amused by her question, “Because I can’t honestly give a damn about this kid?”

“It just doesn’t seem like something you’d do, is all,” Morgana pointed out gently with a half-shrug of her shoulders. Even after months, it still stung how much she didn’t know about Arthur’s life in New York, and as much as she wanted to pry into his business, Morgana was doing her best to stay out of his business.

“Well, it’s not like you knew the ins and outs of my life in Manhattan,” Arthur challenged and then arched his brow, silently daring her deny his statement. “So, is this part where you tell me all the reasons why I shouldn’t take this case? How about we compromise and say that we did but don’t, that way there are no heated words or hurt feelings?”

“Arthur—“

“Agree or not, I don’t care. Just know this, if the next words out your mouth aren’t ‘Arthur, while I don’t understand your reasoning, I fully support your decision,’ you’re not going to like what I have to say next.”

Morgana regarded the stoic anger in her brother’s face and said, “You’re right. I don’t understand, but I’ll support this if that’s what you want to do.”

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Arthur gave Morgana a small smile and said, “Thank you.”

“I just hope that you’re doing this for all the right reasons,” she told him as she pushed her chair back and stood.

Arthur leveled a glare at Morgana, causing her to raise her hands in mock surrender as she backed out of the room. Something had gotten into her brother that much she could see, and at this juncture, Arthur was going to do what Arthur wanted to do. So all Morgana could do was rely upon the skills she had down to art from after years of living under Uther’s roof... the art of picking her battles. Also, Arthur was unfortunately right; this was his career and his decision. While she might not fully understand his motives behind it, as his sister it was her duty to support him, even if that meant keeping her mouth shut on the subject.

Once Morgana had left, Arthur glanced at his watch and subtracted the appropriate hours before picking up his mobile, dialing. On the third ring, Arthur finally heard the voice he wanted to talk to.

“What ho, chap?” The voice on the other end asked; the speaker was undoubtedly American and highly amused with himself.

“You think you’re funny and yet you really aren’t,” Arthur remarked to his friend, who he knew was smiling into the phone. “How long have you been waiting to use that?”

“Ummm… about a week,” Isaac confided with a hint of laughter in his tone. “Whatcha need?”

“A piece of advice.”

“Don’t drink the water.”

“What?” Arthur questioned, taken back by his friend’s off the cuff response. Normally, he would’ve let it slide, but once every so often Arthur’s curiosity just couldn’t help itself and he just had to ask, even if he’d later regret his decision.

“Sorry, gut response to any question asked… ever! Bad experience in Cancun while in college.”

Closing the file and leaning back in his chair, Arthur quickly explained the situation. “I can’t go into the specifics, but I’ve been asked to represent a homeless kid in court and my sister as well as my clerk says I shouldn’t do it.”

“Then I say fuck them. It’s your choice, Arthur. It’s always been your choice, from the first moment I dragged you to that charity soccer game; you’ve—“

“Football,” Arthur corrected automatically. He knew that Isaac knew what the proper word for the game was, but Arthur liked taking the piss, especially when Isaac became flustered and annoyed at being corrected.

“Shut up,” Isaac replied without heat. “As I was saying, from the moment I took you to that youth soccer game, you’ve done everything in your power to help those kids chase their dreams. And if your friends haven’t realize you aren’t the same man you once were, then I say... what’s that word you use again, oh right... sod them.”

Arthur grinned and laughed. “Glad to see something rubbed off on you.”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t what I wanted to rub off,” Isaac pouted as he jokingly referred to their non-existent dating history. After a failed one night stand and the following day spent with a bunch of tweens, they had mutually agreed they were better off as friends.

“Sorry, mate. You just weren’t my type.”

Isaac snorted. “I’m everyone’s type.”

“How are you and Adam doing?” Arthur asked once he got his laughter under control.

“We’re good; I’m meeting his parents next week. They’re coming in from St. Louis for a visit.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.”

Arthur smiled into the phone as he advised Isaac, “Just be your charming self and you’ll do fine.”

“Speaking from experience?”

The barrister scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve met me right; I’ve never managed to get to that point with any guy I’ve dated.”

“Turned off by your oh-so-charming personality?”

“I’m too abrasive, apparently.”

“From what I heard about your dad and childhood, can’t say that I’m all that surprised.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome,” Isaac replied, sounding a little distracted before his voice became muffled as he yelled at someone. Once the phone was back to his mouth, Isaac sounded a little breathless. “Sorry, but I need to go. One of my kids had decided he’s going to test gravity.”

“Go and save him before you end up in the A&E with a couple of pissed off parents,” Arthur told him, frowning slightly before chuckling at Isaac’s situation. While Arthur had the patience to handle youth clients and their guardians for a couple hours, Isaac had the patience of a saint to deal with kids day in and day out as an elementary school teacher.

“Yeah, talk to you later?”

“Later,” Arthur agreed before hanging up the phone. Isaac was a good friend to have, especially when Arthur just needed to hear someone else tell him exactly what his head was screaming at him to do. It was moments like this one that made Arthur realize how much he missed Isaac and the group of friends he made in New York.


	8. New Life

Merlin wasn’t exactly sure what he had been expecting from Freya when the time came for her to give birth ; honestly, she had never been one to do anything by halves, all in or nothing seemed to be her motto, even if she didn’t realize it ninety percent of the time. However Merlin never thought he’d come home to find her heavily pregnant 38 and a half week self trying to make the only dish she knew how to that didn’t leave the food or the kitchen with a slightly burnt odor.

“Freya, you should be resting.”                                                                                

“I know,” Freya replied without looking away from the pot of pasta happily bubbling away, “but I wanted Bolognese and I wasn’t sure when you’d be home.”

“Well, I’m home now, so why don’t you go put your feet up and I’ll finish this,” Merlin said before making an attempt to take the pasta spoon from her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t having it because as soon as Merlin tried to lay his hand on the kitchen utensil, Freya twisted away, showing her back to Merlin as she clutched the spoon to her chest.

“I’m pregnant not an invalid, Merlin,” she snapped. As much as she relished Merlin’s caring nature and mollycoddling, there were just times when Freya wanted to stand on her own two feet and do it herself, even if those times had become few and far between in the wake of Will’s death.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Merlin tried to placate her. “I know, Freya. But you remember what your midwife said about staying off your feet until you’re ready to deliver.”

“I just feel, so…” Freya sighed, “useless. At least let me finish this, all right?”

“Sure,” Merlin replied with a smile. “I’ll just go change then, call me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Freya not quite chirped. The quickness of her mood swings sometimes had Merlin feeling liked he’d end up with a case of whiplash if he put more thought into it than was absolutely needed. With a shrug of his shoulders, Merlin turned and left the tiny kitchen, wandering down the short hallway to his bedroom.

As he entered the room, Merlin stopped and sighed at the state of it; gone was the organized chaos which Merlin had once enjoyed and in its place was what Merlin could only describe as a mess. Sure, Merlin knew he was messy with certain things, like his clothes usually ended up on the floor or in the chair in the corner; but he had nothing on Freya, who seemed to enjoy eating in his bed if the biscuit crumbs were any indication.

Holding back a sigh, Merlin quickly changed into a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt before deciding to tackle the mess that was his room. With an efficiency that Gaius rarely saw at work, Merlin started chucking the mound of clothes on the floor into the laundry hamper by the bathroom door before turning his attention to the crumbs and unmade bed. Leaving the duvet on the chair, Merlin tugged on the side of the sheets, snapping them quickly as he tried to jerk the worse of the crumbs from the bed. Once he was satisfied, he remade the bed and shut the lights off as he left.

After a short stop in the living room to shift his bag from the small table to the hook by the door, Merlin reentered the kitchen, intent on making himself a cup of tea while Freya finished cooking their dinner. Titling his head a little, Merlin watched her move from the stove to the counter and back again as she mixed extra ingredients into the Bolognese sauce. For Merlin, canned sauce was fine just the way it came, but Freya always felt the need to add a tad more of this or a dash of that to make it perfect. Mostly her creations turned out to be alright; sometimes not so much.

Once sure that it seemed like she had everything in hand, Merlin scooted pass her and to the end of the opposite counter where the kettle sat. Grabbing it from its base, Merlin filled it with water and then flicked the switch, letting it boil while he readied two cups of tea: one, milk only and the other as sweet and milky as he could make it.  

Keeping his back to Freya and the stove top, Merlin waited for the kettle’s switch to click and then poured the boiling water into the two mugs. As focused on his task as he was, it wasn’t until he heard a splash did Merlin finally look up, expecting the sound of a scream from Freya because she had accidently overturned the pot of water and pasta on herself. Yet the scream never came; instead the whispered humming of Freya continued. Turning away from the kettle and mugs, Merlin examined Freya from head to toe, stopping only when he realized what had caused the splash.

“Freya,” Merlin called out, trying to stay calm as possible in the wake of what was happening. While the birthing classes gave Merlin the knowledge of what to do when the time came, it failed at preparing him mentally and emotionally for it. Nevertheless, Freya was in labor now and Merlin could have his freak out later… much, much later after his godson had been safely delivered. “It’s time for you to go to hospital.”

Huffing out a small yet exasperated laugh, Freya said, “I’m not due for another two weeks, Merlin. Stop worrying so much.”

“Actually, I think the puddle of water under your feet would disagree,” he replied, even going as far to point at the puddle in question.

“What?” Freya asked, a little confused as her eyes followed his finger down to the faded linoleum flooring and then widened when she realized what he was referring to. “Well, shit.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped in shock at hearing the swear word leave her mouth; Freya had always been the most innocent of their trio with Will being the polar opposite. “Freya!”

“Sorry,” Freya murmured with a shrug before turning back to her pasta, intent on finishing her dinner before she left for the hospital.

“Freya!” Merlin exclaimed as he walked forward and grabbed her elbow, forcing her to turn from the stove top. “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“But I want to eat my Bolognese,” she whined petulantly, really wanting to stomp her foot like a child, but she didn’t. Instead, she tugged her elbow from Merlin’s grasp and turned back to the stove, twisting the gas knob off.

Merlin gave Freya a look and said, “Nope, you need dry clothes and the hospital.” Grabbing her elbow again, he managed to pull her away, taking care to guide her through the puddle, so she didn’t fall. “So while you’re changing, I’ll grab your bag and ring for a taxi. Now go,” he directed her, nudging her in the back when she refused to move.

After a couple of quick jabs in the back, Freya moved forward, hunching her back as she slouched out of the kitchen, clearly upset at Merlin for denying her. Once she was gone, Merlin dumped the pot of water into the sink along with the half-finished mugs of tea before shoving the sauce pan into the oven. He’d deal with it when he returned from the hospital.

With a flick of his wrist, Merlin plunged the kitchen into darkness as he rang for a taxi. Making his way to the small closet next to the front door, he pulled a pastel colored floral print shoulder bag from its depths. Setting the bag on the sofa, he grabbed both his and Freya’s coats from the hook, slipping his own on as he waited.

Minutes later, Freya waddled into the room, having changed from a wet pair of tracksuit bottoms and one of Will’s old band t-shirts into a knee-length red and black jersey dress. “Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled, peeved at having to leave her dinner behind.

“Don’t be like that,” Merlin told her, helping her into her jacket. “I’ll make Bolognese for you when you get home, yeah?” Freya smiled, nodding her head as she reached around Merlin to grab the blue and green changing bag from the chair.

Opening the door, Merlin ushered her into the hallway, checking that he had his phone and his keys before locking the door behind them. The taxi driver was waiting beside the taxi when they exited the building, looking just as nervous as Merlin felt. Giving the driver a small smile, Merlin helped Freya into the taxi then followed behind her. Once settled, the taxi driver closed the door and rounded the car, climbing into the front seat.

“Which hospital, mate?” The driver asked as he started the car, glancing left and right before pulling into traffic.

“Homerton University,” Merlin told him a rush; his nervousness was becoming worse the closer it came to delivery. Not that Merlin was all that surprised by it. He was never supposed to be one holding Freya’s hand when the time came; instead, he always pictured himself pacing the waiting room, anxious for any and all news about his friends and their growing family.

Tucking Freya close as the taxi began to move, Merlin reached out and grabbed her hand, letting her squeeze it as her contractions seemed to start.

“Oh, that’s not back pain,” Freya hiss as she glanced at Merlin sheepishly when he arched his eyebrow, silently questioning her. “What? It’s my first. How am I supposed to know the difference between back pain and contractions?”

Merlin shook his head, rolling his eyes as he gave her an exasperated look. However, before he could open his mouth to comment, the taxi driver lifted his head and looked at them through the rearview mirror. “I’ll have you there in two shakes, Miss. Just hang on.”

Freya gave the driver a tiny grimace and gripped Merlin’s hand tightly in her own, then leaned her head back against the bench seat, closing her eyes in hopes of shutting out the increasing pain for a little while at least.

***

“Merlin?”

Looking up at the sound of Gwen’s voice, Merlin smiled tiredly at his friends, who were carrying a gift hamper and a soft stuffed bear. As he rose to his feet, Merlin glanced at the time on the wall clock before he pulled Lance into a half hug and placed a chaste kiss on Gwen’s cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gaius rang us,” Gwen said with a smile. “So we decided to come and check on you. How is she?”

“Still laboring,” Merlin said and then rubbed his face warily. Freya had been admitted four hours ago and had only progressed to 3 centimeters, but the mid-wife was certain that labor would speed up in the next few hours or so. Merlin sure hoped so… the last hours hadn’t been the easiest for him, especially considering Freya’s emotional rollercoaster. If it wasn’t the pain that had her crying out then it was the overwhelming realization that Will would never meet his son.

Luckily for Merlin, Freya had requested a birth buddy, an older woman, who had the knack for knowing how to calm Freya down when she started crying. Otherwise, Merlin was certain he would be crying in a corner himself.

“Taking a break then, mate?” Lance asked as he set the gift hamper on the floor and grabbed an empty seat beside Merlin in the waiting area.

Gripping the paper cup of lackluster tea in his hand, Merlin solemnly nodded his head before taking a fortifying sip. “Sue, Freya’s birth buddy, thought I should take a break and get a cup of tea,” Merlin explained. “And who was I to argue.”

Gwen laughed at his response, typical Merlin behavior when it came to anything that made him uncomfortable. “It’s almost over, Merlin,” she told him, patting his knee as she perched on the other chair beside him.

Instead of replying, Merlin gave her a look which spoke volumes, telling her exactly what he thought about her placating remark, yet was too polite to say out loud. With a tiny frown on her face, Gwen leaned over and hugged Merlin before laying her head against his shoulder.

The trio settled into a comfortable silence until a stout and graying woman stopped just inside the archway. “Merlin, she’s asking for you,” she announced, startling the trio. Lifting her head from his shoulder, Gwen heard Merlin give a quiet sigh as he rose to his feet and began walking towards her.

“I’ll come and update you in a little bit,” he told the pair once he had reached the archway. With a smile, Lance nodded his head and waited until Merlin had disappeared before pulling out his phone, intent on checking his emails and making a couple of calls while he and Gwen waited for any new news. As he focused on his task, Gwen pushed the hamper forward with her foot as she rose and switched seats, curling up in the chair Merlin had just vacated.

***

At 8:39am, Jack Liam Carter came into the world in much the same way Merlin expected of Will’s son, red faced and screaming. With a head of dark hair like his mother, Merlin thought the little boy resembled a pale skinned version of an alien with his bulbous head and large curious eyes. Yet in spite of his alien-like appearance, Merlin fell in love with the little boy the moment he was placed him on Freya’s chest.

“He’s beautiful,” Freya whispered, tears choking her voice as she kissed her son’s dark head. There was this overwhelming sense of joy and heartache at seeing her son for the first time. As much as she valued Merlin’s love and support during this, resentment licked at her heart. It should have been Will sharing this moment with her.

“He is,” Merlin affirmed, leaning down so he could get a better look at the little boy. While he might have Freya’s dark hair and slightly pointed chin, Merlin could see the shape of Will’s nose, lips, and cheeks mirrored on the boy’s face. “Hello, Jack,” he said as he reached out to cup the back of the boy’s head.

Turning her head, Freya gave Merlin a soft smile before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“No thanks needed,” Merlin replied dismissively, returning her smile with a tired version of his own. Moving his hand down, Merlin rested it on the towel, gently rubbing it over Jack’s skin as he waited for the nurse to come take the baby to be poked and prodded.

Once Freya had been relieved of her son, the midwife looked at awaiting nurse and said, “Could you bring some tea and toast for Freya?” And with a nod, the nurse stepped out of the room.

“There all finished,” the midwife announced a few minutes later before handing Jack over to his mother. “After a little bit of food, you up for a bath?”

“Sounds lovely,” Freya told her with a laugh and a grin.

The midwife laughed herself and said, “I thought you might feel that way. Most new mothers do. And I’m sure Merlin would love to watch Jack while you’re in the bath.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as the midwife moved around the room, setting things to rights, while Freya and Merlin continued to soak in Jack’s presence. Their silence was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse carrying Freya’s tea and toast. After setting it on the bedside table, she moved to the other side of the bed, giving Freya space to hand her son to Merlin before reaching out to help Freya lean against the bed’s headboard.

With Freya situated and munching on her toast, the nurse stepped back and crossed to the small cabinet, pulling Jack’s changing bag from inside. “Ready to get this lovely boy all warm and toasty?” She asked more to the room than anyone in particular while opening the bag and pulling out a blue and yellow striped romper and matching socks.

Merlin looked at Freya, blinking silently at her as he waited for her to answer his unvoiced permission. Freya smiled fondly at Merlin and nodded her head, straightening a little in the bed in hopes of reliving the small twinge in her back.

While Freya continued to munch on her toast and tea, Merlin managed to wrestle, with the help of the nurse, Jack’s sleepy body into his clothes before letting her show him how to swaddle him in a blue star printed receiving blanket. Once Jack was settled again, Merlin retook his chair next to Freya’s bed, lightly bouncing Jack in his arms when the boy started to fuss.

From her spot on the bed, Freya watched Merlin interacting with Jack, a little surprised at how natural he seemed holding and caring for her son. If she hadn’t known better, Freya would think that he had prior experience with babies, but she knew that he hadn’t.

Merlin was an only child, who had grown up in a small country village along the Welsh-English border, where the average age was around 30. Will and Merlin had been the youngest in the village, which meant they had become fast friends due to having no other kids their own age.

“Oh, the little lamb must be hungry,” the midwife stated with a quick glance towards Freya. They had discussed breastfeeding vs. formula, but Freya had yet to make a firm decision during their last appointment.

“There’s formula in his bag,” Freya supplied before taking the last sip of her tea. Setting her cup and plate on the table, Freya held her hands out, making grabby motions at Merlin, urging her friend to hand Jack over to her. With a bark of laughter, Merlin rose from his chair and walked the short steps to Freya’s side, placing the little boy into his mother’s arms.

Merlin pulled a small canister of powdered formula from the bag, a clean bottle, and a flask for the hot water, which he gave to the nurse to fill. Taking the flask from him, the nurse walked out of the room and towards the ward’s small kitchen, where there was a kettle she could use.

Once Jack had been fed and winded, the midwife assisted Freya from the bed and over to the ensuite, informing her as they walked, “If everything continues to look good, Freya, you and Jack will be discharged later this afternoon.”

“Happy news,” Freya said, her voice a little strained as they walked. _Pregnant aches and pains had nothing on labor aches and pains_ , she thought to herself. _I’d pick a pregnancy over labor and delivery, hands down every time_. With a last look at Merlin, who was holding Jack safely in his arms, she disappeared into the ensuite, closing the door behind her, enjoying the peace and quiet the small tiled space gave her. She wasn’t sure which had tired her out the most, the comings and goings of the midwife and nurses, or the labor. Although, regardless Freya was going to soak up the ability to forget her troubles and the impending guilt for a little while at least.


	9. Holding the Bag

“No, Gaius that isn’t possible,” Merlin replied almost close to tears. Between the little sleep he had managed to get and Jack’s never ending crying, Merlin was near his breaking point and neither his job nor Gaius was helping to elevate any of the stress. “The woman mum found to cover the shop can’t start until next Thursday,--“

“Merlin, my boy, I understand that you feel as though you are responsible for this baby, but you really aren’t,” Gaius interjected gently. He hated having to put Merlin through this and while the barristers had tried to be as understanding as long as they could; their patience had unfortunately run out. “It’s been two weeks since Freya walked out and you need to wake up to reality. Plans must be made for Jack and as much as it saddens me to say this, child services seems to be your only option at this point.”

“I can’t do that to him, Gaius,” Merlin choked out, trying his hardest to not start crying again. The tears could come when Jack was asleep; otherwise, he ran the risk of starting a chain reaction with Jack. One time was more than plenty for him. “What if Freya comes back? Child services might not give him back.”

Gaius sighed into the phone connection. “She walked out on him, Merlin. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be his parent.”

“She’s hurting, Gaius. She lost Will and—“

“And nothing, my boy. Your mother lost your father and she didn’t lie down and give up,” Gaius forcefully pointed out. “She stayed and raised you; she even managed to start her own flower business while trying to keep up with you. Freya could have done it, but she chose to take the easy way out.

I understand she’s your friend, Merlin. Unfortunately though, you need to wake up and realize that not everyone is going to do what is expected of them and in this case, Freya has let not only you down but her son as well. I can give you until the end of next week to make your decision. After that, you either come to work or you’re fired.”

“That’s emotional blackmail, Gaius,” Merlin retorted angrily, hurt filling his voice because his godfather was forcing him to choose his job or his godson.

Sighing again, Gaius replied bluntly, “And yet, it must be done. Sometimes your heart is much too big for your limitations, Merlin. And Freya has abused not only you but your trust. While the choice is ultimately yours, son, just remember I’m doing this because I love you. Understand?”

“I understand,” Merlin replied as he sunk down into his battered sofa, relishing the near silence. The flat was quiet for the first time in hours, save for Jack’s tiny sniffling through the baby monitor as he slept. “Jack’s asleep and there are a couple of things I need to do while he’s out. So I’ll ring you on Friday and let you know.”

“Have a good evening, son.”

“You too, Gaius.”

After hanging up, Merlin rested his head against the sofa back and closed his eyes, briefly wondering if there was time for a quick nap before Jack woke up from his. However, the decision was taken from him because as soon as he felt himself beginning to drift off, the sound of knocking reached his ears. So with a muted groan, Merlin heaved his body from the sofa and stumbled ever-so gracefully in the direction of the door.

Unlatching the metal chain, Merlin pulled the door open, revealing a slightly worn out yet alert Arthur carrying a white plastic bag filled with takeaway containers. Arthur, smiling sheepishly at Merlin, pulled his loose tie further down as he held up his offering. “I was on my way home when Lance rang to talk and he happened to mention your situation, so here I am with food.”

Merlin gapped at him, unsure if he should be grateful or pissed off for being on the receiving end of Arthur’s charity. Leaning his shoulder against the open door, Merlin narrowed his eyes at the blonde and hissed, “I don’t need your pity, Arthur.” Then a forceful, “Go home,” He added as an afterthought as he began to close the door, though Arthur was quicker, shoving his foot between the door jam and the door, effectively stopping Merlin from closing the door in his face.

“This isn’t pity, Merlin,” Arthur replied. “This is one friend giving a damn about another when someone close to them has managed to fuck them over.”

“You don’t know anything about this, Arthur,” Merlin growled, “so kindly keep your opinions to yourself.”

With an eye roll, Arthur jammed his shoulder against the door and pushed, forcing his way into the cluttered flat. After setting the food on the coffee table, he turned and looked at Merlin, who seemed to be doing a very good impersonation of a gaping fish. “I’d like to eat before it gets cold and your godson makes his presence known.”

“Who said I was going to let you stay?”

Arthur barked out a laugh and ignored the remark, choosing instead to plant himself on the sofa and began pulling the food from the plastic bag. Once everything was arranged on the coffee table to his liking, Arthur twisted on the sofa and glanced at Merlin, silently questioning with his eyes if Merlin was going to join him or not.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Merlin closed the door and quietly stomped over to the sofa, taking great care to be silent with his anger. There was no sense in accidently waking Jack up if he didn’t have too.  As he settled in beside Arthur, though it pained him greatly to do so, Merlin surveyed the spread, noticing how Arthur had managed to get some of his favorite Chinese dishes.

 _Must have asked Gwen,_ Merlin thought as he reached out and grabbed a second pair of chopsticks.

The pair ate in near silence, save for the occasional sound of chopsticks scrapping the sides of the cartons. Once full, Merlin leaned back against the sofa cushions and rested his hands on his stomach as he watched Arthur polish off the rest of the fried rice.

To be perfectly honest, he was actually surprised that Arthur was even here, especially after their fight over Mordred. The two weeks following it were awkward for everyone in the office because Merlin refused to even be in the same room as Arthur much less look at him. Yet, here his former boyfriend was… were they even boyfriends? Did five dates… outings… that distinction or were they merely two people, who enjoyed each other’s company and had shared a couple of kisses. Although, regardless of it all, Arthur had showed up and was offering support that Merlin desperately needed.

“Why are you here?” Merlin finally asked, breaking the silence and causing Arthur to give him a quick glance before setting the rice carton down.

“I told you, Merlin, I’m here as a friend,” Arthur said with a small sigh. “And to make sure that you don’t get any skinner,” he added with a smirk.

“That’s Gwen talking,” Merlin shot back with a laugh; the first one he had since Freya walked out. Jack had barely been a week old when Merlin came home to find Jack in the arms of his elderly next door neighbor, Finna. Two weeks later and Freya still hadn’t reappeared and Merlin wasn’t holding out much hope that she would.

“Well, she’s the one who told Lance, so…” Arthur pointed out, trailing off at the end. There was no point in lying to the clerk; after all, Arthur knew exactly what kind of game Lance and Gwen had been playing. Fortunately for them, Arthur was very willing to play. He missed spending time with Merlin and really wanted to make amends with him. “How’s everything, Merlin?”

“How do you think it is?” Merlin asked, letting every bit of tiredness enter his voice. “I—” he started, but the shrill cry interrupted him, causing him to jump slightly and jerk his head in the direction of the bedroom. However, before he even had the chance to check on Jack, Arthur’s hand was on his chest, pushing him back into the sofa as he climbed to his feet.

“I’ll go check on him.”

Merlin huffed out a put out sigh and grumbled, “I’m not broken, Arth _ur_.”

“I never said you were.” He laughed as he walked around the sofa, heading in the direction of Merlin’s bedroom. “Although, you do look like you might fall down, so close your eyes. I can take care of him for a little bit.”

“That’s not your job.”

“Technically, it isn’t your job either,” Arthur replied before disappearing down the hallway, where Jack’s cries were slowly increasing in volume, which was a clear sign that everything wasn’t right in his world.

As soon as he entered the room, Arthur’s eyes landed on a white cot tucked away in the corner closest to the bed. Leaning over the railing, Arthur peered into Jack’s reddening face, feeling a little sorry for the boy, though he quickly pushed the pity away as he wrapped his hands around the little boy and lifted, cradling Jack against his chest as he moved over to the rumpled bed and sat.

“What’s wrong buddy?” Arthur murmured softly into the wisps of hair on Jack’s head. Rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, Arthur began to speak softly to the baby, trying to calm him down. “Hungry, wet, or just upset that Uncle Merlin’s ignoring you?”

Arthur chuckled at hearing a faint grunt leave Jack’s lips. “Hungry then, little piggy,” he replied as he pulled Jack away from his chest so he could look into his face. “Well we can’t have that; otherwise, you might start to look like your Uncle. And skinny isn’t a good look on anybody.”

Once the words left his mouth, Arthur heard a disgruntle squawk from the living room, which could only mean Merlin had heard him and apparently didn’t share his sentiments. With a devious grin on his face, Arthur said clearly, so the baby monitor caught it, “Especially not him; it just makes his ears stick out more. But let’s just keep that between us, yeah.”

Jack’s lips twitched a little at the joke and if Arthur hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought it was a smile instead of gas. As he continued to sit there rubbing and patting the little boy’s back, Arthur couldn’t help but wish that he was supposed to here… that Jack, Merlin, and he were a family. A soft puff of a milky scented burp hit his face, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. “Did Uncle Merlin not wind you before naptime, little man?” He asked, knowing that Jack couldn’t answer. Yet he didn’t care; Arthur was enjoying the warmth on the small body pressed close to his chest.

Arthur held Jack a little longer, waiting for the small body to go slack in his arms, a sign that Jack was falling back to sleep. And once he was sure the little boy was fast sleep, Arthur tucked him back into his whimsical sea themed cot and made his way back to the living room, where he found Merlin, dozing on the sofa. Giving the sleeping man a fond smile, Arthur grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa and laid it across Merlin’s body before moving to clean up the remains of their dinner.

It was only after he entered the kitchen did Arthur understand the full existent of Merlin’s predicament. While the living room merely looked as though a small bomb had exploded (dirty muslin squares thrown over the back of a chair, empty bottles on any available surface, a pile of dirty clothes next to the sofa, and clean ones in a laundry basket), the kitchen resembled the aftermath of a biological fallout. Though Arthur couldn’t really fault Merlin’s lack of cleanness; babies were hard work even with two people, never mind one.

Rolling up his white shirt sleeves, Arthur began the task of tackling the mess, starting with the kitchen, where dishes were piled high in the sink and looking every bit like a colony of mold was on the verge of moving in. After emptying the dish drainer of what few dishes it held, Arthur shifted the bulk of the dirty dishes from the sink to the counter, so he could fill the sink with water and dish soap. Arthur hummed under his breath as he worked, scrubbing dried food from the blue plates before putting them in the dish drainer.

It was while Arthur was wiping down the counters and stove top that Merlin finally wandered into the kitchen, looking a little dazed with a touch of sleepiness still in his eyes. “Sleep okay?” Arthur asked, glancing at Merlin out the corner of his eye as the clerk leaned against the fridge.

Merlin lifted one shoulder, then dropped it and sighed. “Thanks for staying Arthur and helping. You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s not about having to, Merlin. It’s about wanting to,” Arthur told him. Dropping the tea towel on the counter, Arthur turned and rested his back against the counter, leveling his gaze at Merlin, who returned it with his own.

“Thanks again, Arthur.”

Arthur shrugged off the gratitude and pushed off the counter, crossing the kitchen with a couple of steps to stand mere inches from Merlin. Reaching a hand out, Arthur grabbed one of Merlin’s and tangled their fingers together before tugging the brunette close and kissing his sleepy mouth. Yet as soon as Merlin opened his mouth to return the kiss, Arthur pulled back and let go of Merlin’s hand, stepping away from him. Leaning forward, Arthur briefly rested his forehead against Merlin’s and asked, “Can I come around tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Merlin said with a small cheeky grin, “as long as you bring food.”

“Deal,” Arthur affirmed, not really trying to keep the laughter from his tone. With one last look at Merlin, Arthur turned away and left the kitchen, stopping briefly to grab his car keys, which he had left on the coffee table. “Good night, Merlin. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added before opening and then closing the door behind him.

“Why didn’t I tell him off?” Merlin wondered aloud, angry with himself for letting the clotpole kiss him and for enjoying it. Banging his fist against the fridge, Merlin growled softly and pushed off the fridge, grabbing the kettle on his way to the sink. Bottles needed to be made for the night, so it would be one less thing to worry about when Jack woke him for his nightly feedings. Once the bottles were made, Merlin switched off the kitchen light before turning off the living room light on his way to his room, fully intending to sleep for as long as Jack let him.


	10. Another Beginning

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin asked out of the blue one night, just as he was finishing his half of their dinner, which was a chickpea, lentil, and spinach curry. Arthur was supportive of Merlin’s anti-meat policy and had taken to choosing their dinner carefully.

Since that first night a week ago, Arthur had become an ever increasing presence in Merlin’s tiny flat. During the day, he’d ring and ask if Merlin or Jack needed anything from the shop and in the evenings, he’d arrive with dinner and the requested supplies. And as much as Merlin was loath to admit it, he found comfort in Arthur’s presence and support. It made him feel as though he wasn’t truly alone in this situation with Jack.

Arthur, who was seated beside his friend, glanced up from where he had been gazing at Jack’s furred head. The little boy had woken early from his evening nap and had demanded attention, which Arthur had been happy to give while Merlin finished his dinner. His former clerk looked gaunt, especially around his eyes and cheekbones; a look that Arthur decidedly wanted to rid him of. 

Rubbing the boy’s back, trying to settle him when the wiggling started, Arthur shook his head, a little exasperated by Merlin’s continuing attitude towards him, especially in the face of their changing relationship. Every night this week before he had left for home, Arthur had shared a desperate yet short kiss with the clerk. However by the time he arrived every night, it seemed as though the trials of the day had wiped any progress he thought he was making clean, yet Arthur found himself not caring. It was the thrill of the chase; he wanted a romantic relationship with this man. One he was willing to fight for to have.

“Not this again, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur teased, causing Merlin to roll his eyes and shake his head at the way Arthur said his name. “I’m here as your friend.”

“Yes, because your kisses aren’t entirely friendly,” Merlin deadpanned while giving Arthur a looked that screamed _‘do I look stupid to you?’_

“They could be,” Arthur said with a cheesy wink. “Seriously, Merlin, I’m here because I care.”

The brunette snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what Morgana says,” he accused. She had come by one morning, earlier in the week with Gwen to drop off cute baby paraphernalia (bibs, bodysuits, nappies, socks) that they thought Merlin might need, which Merlin was grateful for. Jack was quickly running out of clothes to wear due to his impressive bodily functions, and the washing machine’s ability to eat his tiny, tiny socks.

“And I don’t consider Morgana to be an expert on all things my life,” Arthur countered; as much as he loved his sister, her ability to open her mouth and insert foot when it came to him was extraordinary. While she continued to see him as she always did, everyone else had slowly come to the realization that Arthur wasn’t the same man that had left.

“Fair enough,” Merlin replied, reaching out so he could take Jack from Arthur, but the blonde wasn’t willing to let the baby go as yet. Pulling back, Arthur twisted his torso away from Merlin’s reaching hands, giving the clerk his back. Sighing despondently, Merlin grabbed the shoulder without Jack and tugged, trying to force Arthur to turn back towards him. “Give me my godson, you prat.”

“Careful, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said teasingly. “You wouldn’t want to teach Jack any naughty words, now would you?”

With a low growl in his throat, Merlin punched Arthur’s free shoulder then turned away, crossing his arms in a sulk.

“Forget the naughty words,” Arthur laughed. “It’s the violence we’ll have to watch out for.”

Merlin’s ears perked up at Arthur’s use of the ‘we’. Did he mean _we_ in _you-and-me_ sense or the royal one? Secretly Merlin hoped it was the _you-and-me_ kind. Arthur had been a good guy, the kind of guy that Merlin saw himself spending the rest of his life with. Even after their falling out, Arthur had voluntarily given up his free time to spend with Merlin and Jack. He was guy that wasn’t scared off by a baby and seemed to enjoy caring for said baby, so that was an A+ in Merlin’s book.

With a mental shake of his head, Merlin pushed those thoughts down and looked over his shoulder at Arthur, who met his glare with a devilish grin. Twisting his body around, Merlin sat sideways on the sofa, putting him at the perfect position to lean forward and kiss the smirk off the blonde’s face and Arthur didn’t miss a beat, opening his mouth to Merlin’s probing tongue, while still managing to keep Jack safely tucked into his chest. Unfortunately, just as their kiss started to heat up, Jack decided to make his presence known, giving a small squeak of displeasure at being squished between the two men.

Merlin’s laughter resounded in Arthur’s throat, forcing them to break their kiss. “Oh,” Merlin said while focusing his gaze on Jack’s sweet face. “Not happy with us, little man?”

“Yeah, did Uncle Merlin try to flatten you, Jack?” Arthur said jokingly with a wink to Merlin as he reached out and tugged on Jack’s socked and flailing foot.

“Oy!” Merlin exclaimed as he tucked his hand over Jack’s feet, protecting them from Arthur’s wandering hands. “Remember Jack, never believe anything that comes out his mouth,” he said, addressing Jack while looking at Arthur with a teasing smirk on his lips.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Arthur decided it was time to change the subject and finally answer Merlin’s original question. It was getting late and Arthur had an early meeting in the morning with the CPS prosecutor for Mordred’s case, and if everything went as he hoped, Mordred would have a plea deal as long as Arthur was able to get the information the CPS wanted.

“When I left for New York, I hated Uther and I wanted nothing to do with him. He had ruled my childhood with an iron fist and made me scared to be myself,” Arthur began, chuckling a little as he recalled one of his earliest memories of the Big Apple. “So I decided that I was going to find the gayest gay club I could find and take home the first guy that struck my fancy. His name was Isaac Grant and he was gorgeous. Tall, muscular with short wiry black hair, but instead of sleeping with him, I passed out in his bed because I was an idiot and couldn’t hold my alcohol. He was—”

At the sound of Merlin’s laughter… braying really if Arthur was honest, he stopped, enjoying the infectious sound as it washed over him, and caused him to breakdown laughing too. The whole experience with Isaac had been surreal and Arthur continued to be grateful for it. Isaac had provided Arthur with a direction and a purpose that he had never expected to want or enjoy doing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Merlin gasped apologetically as his laughter eased. While there was a small sense of tragedy in the tale, it was just too funny not to laugh at.

Lifting his hand from Jack’s back, Arthur waved off the apology and then shifted Jack from his chest to the crook of his elbow, in awe of the little boy’s ability to sleep through his uncle’s loud braying. “The next morning, I woke up to find Isaac already dressed in a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt for some youth organization. After handing me a plate of eggs and rashers, he gave me the choice to leave when he left or spend the day with him. I decided to go with him and it changed my life.

It was a baseball game to raise money for a couple of the local youth organizations. And just after meeting these kids and hearing their stories, a light bulb went off in my head. I realized that I could have been one of these kids… sure I grew up with money but Uther didn’t give a damn about me and if Morgana hadn’t come, I honestly don’t know what would’ve happened to me and that thought terrified me.

Isaac just had a way with these kids and I wanted to help anyway that I could. So I started to volunteer with his organization while I was getting my law degree at Columbia. Those kids were the reason I went into youth and family law. They needed a voice, Merlin, just like Mordred needs a voice.”

Merlin huffed out a breath, shaking his head a little. “He killed my friend… Jack’s dad.”

“He didn’t, Merlin,” Arthur argued, “I know he didn’t. He’s a good kid that lost the one person who cared. He deserves a second chance with Tristan and Isolde, one that I’m willing to fight for.”

“Arthur—“

Reaching out, Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin’s and squeezed. With a touch of helplessness in his voice, he said, “I will find Will’s murderer, Merlin. I have an appointment with the CPS tomorrow and my goal is a deal for turning over Will’s murderer.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied as he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Arthur’s. “I’m going to trust you, Arthur.”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?” Arthur quipped, finishing it with an exaggerated wink. Merlin rolled his eyes, but pressed another kiss to Arthur’s lips, causing the blonde to smile.

Merlin pulled away, trying to stifle a yawn as he did. With a frown on his face, Merlin said, “Sorry, but it’s pass my bedtime and waaayyy pass Jack’s.”

“It’s okay. Actually, I should get going myself. My CPS meeting is at 9:30,” Arthur replied before rising from the sofa with Jack in his arms. There was no sense in handing him off to Merlin and risk waking him up when he was perfectly capable of laying the little boy in his cot.

As soon as he entered Merlin’s room, Arthur noticed a stark difference in the room since the last time he had been there. The bed was made, the floor cleared, and a pile of clean nappies were waiting to be put away. After settling Jack into his cot and tucking his white and sea green blanket around him, Arthur stepped back, glancing at Merlin, who had followed him.

“What are you going to do?”

Merlin shrugged his shoulders, knowing exactly what Arthur was asking without needing clarification. Everyone in chambers knew about the ultimatum and its deadline; yet Arthur and Merlin had made a point to never acknowledge it because it left both of them upset, especially Arthur. He hated the choice the senior barristers were forcing on his former clerk. It wasn’t as though Merlin had asked for Freya to up and leave Jack. If anything, they should be trying to work with him as he dealt with a difficult situation; most people wouldn’t accept a baby being dropped in their lap, let alone stepping up to care for him.

“Merlin, you’re not in this alone,” Arthur told him. “Gwen, Lance, me, everyone loves what you’re doing and they’re willing to help. All you need to do is ask for it.”

Unable to contain his disbelief, Merlin snorted and said, “In that case, I need an affordable nanny, who can watch Jack during the day.”

“Done!”

“What?” Merlin shot back, not expecting that to be Arthur’s answer. “Done how?”

“Gwen has found a couple of nannies that look good on paper; you just need to interview and approve one of them,” Arthur explained. “So tomorrow, you’re going to call Gaius and tell him that you will see him bright and early on Monday. Then you’ll call Gwen for the list.”

“I can’t afford a nanny, Arthur. I can barely afford me.”

Arthur smiled and wrapped his hand around Merlin’s neck, stroking the back of his neck in a rhythmic pattern with his thumb. “We’ve got that sorted too. We’ve all chipped in to help pay for her,” Arthur said gently, even though he knew regardless of his tone, Merlin would be angry. The clerk didn’t want to feel like a charity case to his friends. “And before you open your mouth, we know you aren’t a charity case. We love you and we love Jack; this is for the both of you.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied, smiling a little as he blinked back the tears in his eyes. “What kind of dinner can I expect tomorrow?” He asked, pushing down his emotional outburst away in favor of something more practical… like food.

With a kiss to Merlin’s forehead, Arthur stepped away, distancing himself from the man he’d love to push down onto the bed and curl up around, spending the whole night with him just wrapped in his arms. Hopefully, there would be plenty of time for that later; right now though, Arthur needed to focus on getting out of this flat and to his own home.

“I was thinking if your mum was up to watching Jack tomorrow night, I’d take you out?” Arthur tentatively voiced. “You’ve barely left the house since she arrived. I think you’re starting to forget what fresh air is.”

After her arrival on Thursday, Merlin had stuck close to his mother, worrying over every aspect of Jack’s care. It was almost as though he didn’t trust his mother to take care of the little boy, which was ironic considering she raised him. But tonight, Hunith was taking a break from Merlin’s hovering, leaving Arthur to deal with the neurotic godfather while she enjoyed a quiet dinner with Gaius.

Merlin smiled a little at Arthur’s bad joke, and then said, “I’ll ask her tomorrow and ring you.”

“Sounds good,” Arthur replied as he slipped between the doorway and Merlin. Without turning to check that Merlin was following, Arthur continued, “Ring if you need anything and have a good night, Merlin.”

“I’ll try,” Merlin replied and inched closer to Arthur, pressing his body close as he tilted his head to the left and kissed the blonde. “Goodnight,” he whispered against Arthur’s lips when their kiss broke. After throwing a flirty grin over his shoulder, Merlin retreated down the hall to his bedroom, leaving Arthur to see himself out.

***

“Mordred, I need to tell me the absolute truth,” Arthur said as soon as Mithian and he were seated. It had taken a little back scratching, but Arthur had managed to get the prosecution to agree to a plea deal if, and only if, Mordred gave up the actual murderer. While it wasn’t an ideal situation, Arthur knew that at least Mordred would get a fair deal out of it.

“I’m no grass,” Mordred sneered, shooting Arthur a look of pure contempt. As far as Mordred was concerned, Arthur was exactly like everyone else in his life, only worried about their wants and needs. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking Mordred to grass.

“Mordred, do you understand what will happen if you don’t tell the police what they want to know?” Mithian asked, cutting Arthur’s reply off before he said something that he couldn’t take back. While she hadn’t witnessed anything overt, Leon had informed her of a change in Arthur and Merlin’s relationship, especially where Merlin’s godson was concerned. “You’ll go to prison, Mordred and I don’t mean until you’re 21. I’m talking ten years at least.”

Mordred snorted, rolling his eyes at Mithian’s appeal while continuing to sneer at Arthur, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his simmering anger and annoyance.

 _“What a pair do they make?”_ Mithian thought to herself. Never had she witnessed such animosity between a barrister and his client, indifference sure, but not out and out loathing. Although, she couldn’t say she was all that surprised if what Leon had told her about Arthur’s support of Merlin was to be believed and she did believe it. This Arthur was very different than the Arthur of their youth; New York and no Uther had done him a world of good.

“The prosecution will throw this into Crown Court and try to charge you with murder on top it,” Arthur explained evenly. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper at this juncture; he needed Mordred to see reason and not feel as though Arthur was attacking him. Mordred needed to feel as though Arthur was trying to help him, give him the security and protection that others failed to provide.

“I didn’t murder that guy!”

Jumping from his chair, Mordred began to pace the short length of the colorless room with its beige walls and pale blue carpets. The strain of the detention centre and the stress of his predicament were beginning to make his nerves feel more frazzled than usual. It wasn’t like he wanted to live on the streets or squat in abandoned buildings, selling drugs at clubs and on the streets. Before his grandmother died, Mordred wanted like most kids that age to be a footballer; he had grown up loving the sport. Unfortunately, circumstances had all but destroyed that dream.

“We aren’t saying you did, Mordred,” Mithian replied before shifting her gaze to Arthur and nudging him with her elbow. They needed to keep Mordred calm; otherwise, the guard might end their meeting before it really began, which wouldn’t be helpful to Mordred one bit.

Then without missing a beat, Arthur took Mithian’s queue and said, “The police just want to know what happened that night.” The statement had little affect on the teenager as he continued to pace, eyes wild as he swung them back and forth, from the carpet to the walls and then back to Mithian and Arthur.

Following him with his eyes, Arthur waited until Mordred was once again in front of his seat. “His wife was pregnant, that’s why he was out so late,” he said, causing Mordred to stop and give him a confused look. One of the first things Arthur learned when working with kids like Mordred was that the truth was your greatest weapon. Don’t lie and definitely don’t bullshit; it doesn’t help you or them.

“What?”

“The man, who was stabbed, had gone out because his wife Freya wanted ice cream.”

“Nice try, but I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

Arthur merely arched his brow, staring silently at the teenager before finally shrugging his shoulders in apparent defeat. “Have it your way, kid. I’ve done all I can do,” Arthur told him as he pushed his chair back and stood. As far as Arthur was concerned, there were two types of clients: the ones willing to bend over backwards to help themselves, and then there were the ones, who wanted their lawyers to do all the heavy lifting.

“Hey!” Mordred exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table, the force behind it causing his muscles to bulge and his veins to pop, which only seemed to draw the eye more to the tattoos on his forearm. Arthur hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but now that his eye had been drawn to them, he couldn’t look away, slowly tracing the intricate black lines and subtle pockets of color. A lined dragon drawn in such a way that it incorporated elements of Celtic symbols: a trinity knot hanging from the dragon’s tail while a third of a knot filled the dragon’s belly, with the shadowing done in a deep rich green around the dragon’s wings and crimson at its front. Once Arthur’s gaze reached the end of his arm, he saw the deep lines of a simple triskel etched at the base of Mordred’s wrist. The teen’s arm was a beautiful piece of art, even if the tats were a mark of his connection to his gang.

“You’re supposed to help me. You’re my fucking barrister, mate.”

“Exactly,” Arthur agreed with a snap of his fingers. After picking up his briefcase, Arthur caught a quick glance at his watch as he readied to leave; if he left now and the traffic was with him, he would just make it on time to an early dinner with Morgana before she left town, and he was expected at Merlin’s.

Mordred’s gazed narrowed as he stared at Arthur, breathing heavily. The teenager was seething in quiet rage not exactly sure who he was angrier at: Arthur or himself. Six months ago, it would have definitely been Arthur, regardless of whether the blonde was trying to help him or not. Now though, Mordred wasn’t so sure. Rationally, he knew that the only way to get the charges dropped was to tell the police everything they wanted to hear.

“Did he really have a pregnant wife?” Mordred tentatively asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the truth or not. The guy hadn’t been real before this moment, just some bloke Sax had stabbed when he hadn’t done what Sax wanted.

“Yeah,” Arthur breathed, continuing to level his gaze at Mordred, whose expression had gone from angry to wary and defeated in a matter of seconds.

“How do you know?”

Dropping his briefcase on the floor, Arthur retook his seat across from Mordred and motioned for the teenager to do the same. Once Mordred was seated again, Arthur opened the case file and pushed it across the table, so he could read Freya’s statement. “My clerk, Merlin, was Will’s best friend and after his death, Freya came to London to live with him.”

As soon as the word’s left Arthur’s mouth, Mordred grabbed for the open file, his eyes moving back and forth across the page, soaking in all the facts that Freya had given to police about why her husband had been out so late that night. After he had read his fill, Mordred pushed the file away and rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. He just wanted all this to be over.

“What kind of plea deal are we looking at?”

Shooting a subtle look of triumph at Mithian, Arthur straightened his shoulders, leveling his best serious face at the teen. It wasn’t a name yet, but it was better than what they had started with; at least, Mordred was willing to entertain the notion of cooperating with the police’s investigation.

“A Youth Rehabilitation Order with the following provisions: a residence requirement with an attached curfew requirement until your 18th birthday--you will be monitored for at least the first 6 months after which, they will decide if you abided by their expectations for release; and an education requirement—you will have to have least taken any or all of your chosen GCSEs by your 18th.”

“So they’re giving me at least 18 months to get my life in order,” Mordred summed up. It actually wasn’t a bad deal to be offered; he had heard about worse ones from some of the other street kids. “This residence requirement… how’s it work? I pick a place and what? Just live there? I can’t actually afford a place, that’s why I live on the street.”

Arthur stopped himself from rolling his eyes at hearing the tone in Mordred’s voice, which was bordering on patronizing. He would have never dreamed of using that voice with his dad, unless he really wanted to be on the receiving end of Uther’s wrath. “The court will either find you an approved place or we can submit one for approval,” he explained. “Tristan and Isolde have a free bed for you, Mordred, but only if you’re willing. They also have the resources to help you study and take your GCSEs.”

“How many do I have to take and pass?”

“As many as you feel comfortable taking?” Mithian cut in, giving the teen a reassuring smile. “Although, ideally, you’d take your cores: Maths, Science, and English, then a mixture of subjects that interest you.”

Mordred leaned back in his seat, leveling a hard stare at her while he thought about what she had just told him. The room fell silent around him as Arthur and Mithian waited for him to speak… to make his decision one way or the other. With a deep sigh, Mordred leaned forward and folded his arms, drawing his finger across the table before reaching out for Mithian’s pen. “His name is Rangor, but everyone calls him Sax. Mean son of a bitch,” he said as he wrote an address down in the corner of the file’s top sheet. “He’s got a couple of different places, but this is the last place I know he was at.

Taking the sheet back, Arthur nodded and tucked it away before looking at Mordred again. “What happened that night?”

“Sax and I were waiting for a couple of my regular clients; it was late and Sax was getting impatient. Then this bloke—”

“Will.”

“Will came around the corner and Sax said something to him, I’m not sure what, I was acting as look out and whatever Will said must have set Sax off. ‘Cause next thing I know, Will’s on the ground, bleeding, and Sax is yelling at me to run, so I did,” Mordred revealed. He paused for a beat then added, “I’m sorry your friend lost his friend.”

“Thank you for your help,” Arthur replied, choosing to ignore Mordred’s apology. He couldn’t see a reason for acknowledging the teen’s regret. Mordred’s guilt wouldn’t give Merlin his friend back or Jack his father, so all Arthur could do was keep his feelings for them separate from his duty to Mordred.

Reaching down, Mithian pulled a legal pad from her own briefcase and slid it across the table to Mordred. “You’ll have to write out your statement and sign it, Mordred,” Mithian told him as she clasped her fingers together. “I’ll wait while you complete it.”

“What about him?” Mordred said with a glance towards Arthur, who was returning the folder to his case. Arthur stopped and looked at Mordred, arching his brow at the teen.

“Arthur has to get to an early dinner with his sister.”

“She’s scary,” Arthur said, eyes wide. “Morgana is the one person I’ve learned never to cross.”

“So you’re close or not close?” Mordred asked, genuinely confused and a little curious about his barrister’s relationship with his sister. Mordred didn’t have any siblings, so his only experience had been with a trio of siblings belonging to his shortly lived foster family. They had been absolutely horrible to each other… the fighting, the insults, and the jealousy. It hadn’t been a good place to be in, especially when they decided to put their issues with one another aside and focus on making Mordred’s life a living hell.

Arthur let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. In spite of Uther’s best attempt in causing a riff between them, Arthur and Morgana had clung fast to each other, never letting Uther see the cracks in their relationship. All siblings have their problems, whether good or small, why would they be any different.

Dropping his briefcase once more, Arthur settled into his chair, then with a small smile on his face, he said, “Let me tell you about Morgana’s trip to Vienna and our father coming home early and my less than stellar covering skills...”

As he began his story, he knew that he was going to be late for dinner and probably would miss it all together, but Morgana would forgive him, just like he’d forgive her later when she berated him for being late. After all, it’s what siblings did.


	11. Tough Decisions

“You need to fill these out, Merlin,” Arthur practically demanded while handing his boyfriend a set of documents enclosed in a plastic sleeve. It had been almost six weeks since the first night Arthur had shown up with dinner and they had officially become a couple four weeks ago—thanks to Merlin’s mum, Hunith.

She had shown up with a smile on her face, sent Merlin back to work, and had stayed until a nanny was hired for Jack. It was during her visit that Arthur and Merlin’s relationship was able to grow; they had dates and just time to spend together without having to worry about Jack. However, there were times when Hunith had to threaten them, so they would leave. On one occasion, Hunith had likened their behavior to that of new parents, scared and worried for the safety of their new baby.

Merlin gave the plastic sleeve a small glance and rolled his eyes. He really wished that Arthur obeyed commands like a dog because he’d loved to be able to order the barrister from his home and watch him obey. Yet even Merlin knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, especially when Arthur got an idea into his head, so he didn’t bother wasting his time or his breath on it.

“What are they?” Merlin asked, pulling the documents from their sleeve and spreading them out on the coffee table. He had seen the plastic sleeve tucked under Arthur’s arm when he arrived for dinner, but decided to wait until the blonde had broached their contents, which wasn’t until after their dinner and Jack’s bath time.

“All the forms you need to fill out,” Arthur replied, “along with the accompanying information leaflet. Mithian has agreed to be your solicitor on record but is allowing me to handle all the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Merlin wandered aloud, completely lost by what Arthur was trying to tell him, let alone giving him to fill out. “What paperwork?”

“For a residence order, if Jack’s going to live with you then you have to file with the court the necessary documents to obtain said order.”

“So I can keep Jack,” he breathed in awe, as soon as he realized what Arthur was talking about.

Currently there was nothing stopping social services from coming in and taking Jack from him, due to Freya never having legally named him as Jack’s guardian. But an approved residence order meant that Merlin would be named as Jack’s primary caregiver and would allow him to assume parental responsible for the child. And at almost 9 weeks old, Jack needed a parent in whatever form possible.

Merlin’s resolve to protect Jack from foster care had more to do with his love for the child than his love for Will and Freya; although it did have some small part in it. Very small. Especially when Merlin put it into context with Will and Freya’s own family situations; Will’s father had passed away a year before his marriage to Freya and Freya had grown up in care. So as far as Merlin was concerned, he’s Jack’s only living relative.

“Yes,” Arthur grinned. “So you can keep Jack. Now are you going to fill out these out.”

Merlin made a grabby motion for the pen in Arthur’s hand, all but snatching it from the blonde as soon as it was in range. “Which one do I need to fill out first?”

“The C2 form, which means you’re basically asking the court’s permission to begin the proceedings of your residence order,” Arthur explained as he plucked the correct form from the stack to hand to Merlin, who took it excitedly.

There was grin on the clerk’s face as he read over the form, filling in the information he knew off the top of his head. Yet his grin fell as soon as he got to the top of page 3 where it asked for the respondents’, Freya’s, details. “What if I don’t know any of this information?”

“Just put what you know, Merlin,” Arthur replied gently. “Don’t lie.”

Merlin nodded and continued writing, putting down Freya’s married and maiden name, her gender, before skipping to the end and scribbling in the last known mobile number he had for her. The information was sparse but then again, Merlin reasoned that if he knew where Freya was then he wouldn’t be filling this out.

Once finished with page 3, Merlin glanced over page 4 before focusing on page 5; it wanted Mithian’s information. Turning to Arthur, all he had to do was arch his brow and Arthur was handing over one of Mithian’s business cards. Merlin took it with a smile, copying all her information down in his slanted, slightly illegible handwriting. As soon as Merlin finished with the last couple of pages, he handed it back to Arthur, who tucked it into the plastic sleeve before grabbing the next form, a c100.

“Most of the information asked is exactly the same, only this time they need to know Jack’s details too,” he said. “Do you have his birth certificate?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied with a nod. “Freya was kind of enough to leave that and his medical information.”

With an unchecked snort, Arthur retorted, “What a great mother she is…” causing Merlin to give him a pointed look before he bent over to painstakingly write his name. Arthur shrugged off Merlin’s rebuke and then reached around him to grab the empty food cartons before getting to his feet and walking to the kitchen. While Merlin worked on his application, Arthur moved around the small flat, cleaning this and that, waiting for his boyfriend to finish.

Sometime later, Merlin threw down his pen and leaned back, rubbing his hands across his face then through his hair, making the ends stand up. The week had left him feeling drained; but filling out these forms had left him feeling emotionally defeated. Merlin knew that by filling out these forms he was giving up on Freya and the idea of Jack having his mother. It should have saddened him; yet it didn’t. All he could feel was relief that Jack would have the love and stability he needed and deserved.

“Hey,” Arthur said softly, fingers gliding through Merlin’s dark strands then down his neck, gently rubbing the smooth skin he found. “You okay?”

Merlin gave him a wry smile and said, “Yeah, just tired.”

“Then come on, bed for you.”

“Just me?” Merlin asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Arthur grinned and gripped Merlin’s shoulder over the back of the sofa, pulling the other man to his feet.

“I’m right behind you, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur grinned. “I need to lock up and turn off the lights.”

As he passed by on his way to the bedroom, Merlin pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips, pushing away before the blonde could deepen it. “Hurry up,” Merlin breathed against Arthur’s lips, leaving no room for doubt about what he wanted from his boyfriend.

Once he was happy that everything was satisfactory, Arthur turned and jogged down the short hallway, pulling his shirt off as he went. As soon as he was in Merlin’s bedroom, Arthur stopped in the doorway and undone his belt then his fly, shoving his jeans down his legs and stepping out them. From the bed, Merlin smiled and patted the empty space next to him, urging Arthur closer. Matching Merlin’s smile with his own, Arthur crossed to the bed and climbed in, drawing the clerk into his arms and under the duvet.

“I might have lied,” Merlin admitted sheepishly while he tried to stifle a yawn. What little energy he had seemed to disappear the moment climbed into bed.

“Go to sleep,” Arthur replied and placed a kiss on Merlin’s temple, breathing him in. Settling into the warmed sheets, Arthur listened to Merlin’s soft sighs and little breaths, allowing the sounds to pull him into sleep.

 

***

“Jack is drugged and out for the count,” Arthur announced as soon as he reentered the living room, where Merlin was waiting with their dinner and a movie ready to play.

At few weeks shy of being 6 months old, the first of Jack’s teeth had begun to appear, leaving the little boy in pain, irritable, and clingy. He out and out refused to go to sleep unless Arthur or Merlin was holding him; a fact they discovered the first night they had given him infant ibuprofen. Jack’s little eyes were just starting to droop when Merlin had laid him in his cot; but the moment his back had touched the soft bedding, he let out a wail that left Arthur wondering if he had gone deaf, never mind the damage to Merlin, who been closer to the source.

Holding on his hand, Merlin pulled Arthur onto the sofa with him, contorting his body so he pressed chest to side with Arthur. Even though it wasn’t the best position to eat in, Merlin didn’t care; Arthur’s warmth more than made up for it. “I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Merlin groused, “it makes us sound like bad parents. What if someone happened to hear you?”

“I’m sure your neighbors would love it if we could actually drug Jack. That way **we** could all get some sleep.”

“It’s not so bad,” Merlin said, trying to make light of their situation. They were on day four of Jack’s teething and either man had gotten much sleep, having decided to take turns when Jack’s earsplitting cries awoke them.

Shooting Merlin a ‘you’ve-got-to-be-mad’ look, Arthur placed a kiss to Merlin’s temple and resumed eating, intent on enjoying the blissful silence and the press of Merlin’s body against his. Sex at this point was contingent on whether Gwen or Percy would be willing to take the boy, so Merlin and he could enjoy a proper date night. Unfortunately in the last couple of weeks, either couple had been willing due to Jack’s irritability. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another that set him off; one never knew what would cause him to have a meltdown.

Merlin shot Arthur a cheeky grin then reached out and wrapped his hand around Arthur’s head, tugging him into a heated kiss. Arthur returned the kiss briefly before pulling away and setting his food down on the table then with a leering smile, Arthur pressed his hand against Merlin’s chest, urging him to lie down on the sofa beneath them. Once he had Merlin exactly where he wanted him, Arthur stretched out on top, lightly running his hands down Merlin’s sides before slipping them underneath, fingers caressing the warm skin he found.

“Stop playing dirty,” Merlin gasped, squirming beneath Arthur’s fingers as they hit his ticklish spots.

“I thought you liked it when I played dirty,” Arthur quipped, not bothering to hide his smirk as he dug his fingers into Merlin’s side, causing his boyfriend to squeak with laughter.

“I hate you, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin growled softly before pulling Arthur into another kiss of darting tongues and languid smiles.

“So you claim,” Arthur hiss when Merlin’s hand slid between them and popped the button on his fly, drawing the zipper down before slipping his hand inside.

“ _Arth_ ur,” Merlin drawled, his breath ghosting hotly across Arthur’s neck. Then with a devious smile on his face, Merlin lapped at the thin, muscled column, enjoying the faint taste of sweat, sandalwood, and Arthur’s own natural aroma.

“Now, who’s playing dirty?” Arthur panted as he hardened under Merlin’s hand. Pushing up slightly with the balls of his feet, Arthur moved against Merlin’s hand, feeling the drag of fingertips across his heated flesh.

“Clotpole.”

“Cause that’s exactly what the guy whose dick you’re holding wants to hear,” Arthur snorted, rolling his hips again. A puff of breath floated across his neck, causing Arthur to stutter and then pause as he tried to regain control.

Merlin grinned, breathing out a faint, “Problem there, Arthur,” into his boyfriend’s shoulder as he moved his free hand down Arthur’s back and into his boxers, his index finger easing between Arthur’s cheeks as he lightly fingered the puckered hole.

With Merlin’s attentions spurring him on, Arthur shifted his body up and away, attacking Merlin’s fly with a single-minded focus before returning to Merlin, lips seeking biting kisses and shared breaths. Staring into Merlin’s lust-fueled gaze, Arthur knew he’d never be able to get enough of this man and it had nothing to do with how wanton he looked between Arthur’s thighs. His smile, his laugh, his mere presence was enough to make Arthur ache with a need he’d never felt before.

Grabbing Merlin’s wrist, Arthur pulled it away from his cock and out his boxers, lacing their fingers together as he bore down on Merlin’s erection, rolling his hips as their cocks brushed. While it wasn’t nearly enough, it would have to do for now, especially when neither men knew if or when Jack would interrupt them.

As though sensing what Arthur was trying to do, Merlin lifted his hips, rolling them against Arthur’s in an unmatched pace. But either cared, they were too focused on chasing their high, on finishing this before Jack made his presence known. “Please, _Arthur_ ,” Merlin begged, panting against the blonde’s lips. He wanted this, no… he needed this man to take him apart and put him back together again.

“Tell me, what you want?” Arthur ordered, voice faltering as he redoubled his efforts, hips snapping in tandem.

“ _Anything_ ,” Merlin breathed, neck muscles bulging as his head lolled back, baring it to Arthur’s gaze. At seeing the pale skin, Arthur leaned his head down and without stopping his movements, he lapped at Merlin’s pulse point for a couple of seconds before biting it, drawing a breathless moan from Merlin’s lips as the damp spot on Merlin’s boxers darkened. Watching the euphoria of release flash across Merlin’s face, Arthur came with a stifled shout, his body stilling as his toes curled and his muscles relaxed, before collapsing on Merlin, who lazily rested his hands on Arthur’s sweaty back.

Thumb lazily rubbing the small patch of skin uncovered by the bunching of Arthur’s shirt, Merlin sunk further into the worn sofa, enjoying Arthur’s weight and his warmth, as he slipped into slumber. Their closeness meant Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath against his neck, a faint tickle, as he slipped further into sleep. And while he knew they needed to clean up soon, unless they wanted to be glued to their clothes, Merlin just couldn’t mustard the energy to do so. Instead, he chose to continue to draw patterns and shapes across the sweat drying on Arthur’s skin.

Merlin wasn’t sure how long they dozed, content in their own little world; but unfortunately the real world called in the form of a loud wail of pain and distress, which could only be from one tiny person... Jack. With a soft groan, Arthur blinked awaked, eye lashes fluttering against Merlin’s neck, and then pushed his body off Merlin’s as he tried to stand without falling. While his legs still felt a little like jelly, Arthur couldn’t say that he hated the sensation; the tension in his back and shoulders from earlier was practically nonexistent now.

As he began to move forward, Merlin reached out and stopped him, causing him to look down at the brunette, who looked every bit like he felt: sex-rumpled and content. Arthur smiled drowsily at Merlin as he watched his boyfriend push himself into a sitting position, back resting against the sofa with his legs forming a cage around Arthur’s knees. Leaning forward, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and rested his head against the blonde’s stomach.

“Merlin, what—“

“Shhh, let me just enjoy this for a couple more minutes,” Merlin whispered, voice barely heard over the increasing range of Jack’s cries.

“Merlin, I’m coming right back,” Arthur told him, annoyed that he was being kept from seeing to Jack. After a couple of seconds of waiting, Arthur reached around his waist and loosened Merlin’s grip on him. “I’ll make you a deal. You start our shower while I check on Jack.”

“But you just put him down,” Merlin pointed out. This was supposed to be a partnership, yet some days he felt like Arthur took more than his fair share Jack wrangling. He wasn’t jealous of the time Arthur spent with Jack or Jack with Arthur; he just couldn’t stand feeling idle and useless when it came to caring for the boy.

“Yes…” Arthur drawled with his eyebrow arched, not really understanding where Merlin was going with this. A few seconds passed as he waited for Merlin to answer his unvoiced question; but when no response came, Arthur slide his hands up, resting them just underneath Merlin’s ribcage, and said, “This isn’t a competition, _Mer_ lin. You’ll get him the next time.”

“But Arthur—“ Merlin began before Arthur’s lips cut him off. For a guy who had just experience a mind-blowing release, he moved pretty fast for only having half his brain working. If Merlin wasn’t a little annoyed, he might just be mildly impressed.

“Just please, Merlin,” Arthur pleaded, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s wet lips.

Nodding his head, Merlin leaned back, watching as Arthur rounded the sofa before getting to his feet and following. When he finally got to the bedroom’s door, he paused at the doorway, eyes filling with love as he watched the man he loved sway softly in the darkened room with Jack pressed close to his chest.

Merlin watched Arthur with Jack for a couple of minutes before the blonde caught him, shooing him away with a pointed look followed by a naughty wink. Rolling his eyes, Merlin retreated from the bedroom and crossed to the bathroom, flooding the room in bright light on his way to the tub, where he opened the taps and watched as water gushed out, filling the porcelain. As he waited for the water to heat up, he quickly shed his t-shirt and had just started to take his jeans off when Arthur interrupted.

“Starting without me?” He asked innocently, well as innocently as one could with the fly of their jeans still undone and a darkening love bit on his neck.

Merlin merely shook his head and continued his task, pointedly ignoring Arthur even as he wrapped himself around him, almost cradling him against his broad chest. Arthur’s appearance and sudden octopus-like behavior caused Merlin to let a huff of annoyance.

_Didn’t Arthur see he was trying to get undressed here?_

“Was Jack alright?” Merlin asked before spinning in Arthur’s arms to look at him. The blonde smiled gently at his boyfriend and closed the gap between their lips, kissing Merlin with abandon.

“Just lost his dummy,” Arthur replied, swaying his body a little as he continued to hold Merlin. “It’s fixed and he’s once again in the land of nod,” he added, releasing Merlin long enough to pull his own shirt over his head before reaching out to shove Merlin’s jeans down his legs.

“Ready for round two?” Merlin quipped with a sleepy leer, letting Arthur know that he wasn’t up for much except for a quick shower and bed. Arthur returned Merlin’s leer with his own lazy smile as he worked on getting his own jeans and boxers off before nudging a now naked Merlin towards the shower.

Giving Arthur a coy smile, Merlin stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain close, blocking Arthur’s gaze of him while the blonde undressed. Once finished, Arthur followed Merlin into the shower, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend as they stood under the spray, letting the hot water wash away their combined sweat and stickiness.

“I lied,” Merlin yawned as Arthur reached around him to grab a bar of soap and flannel, soaping them up before washing all the parts of Merlin he could reached without letting his boyfriend go. “I’m not ready for round two.”

“I know,” Arthur replied, making quick work of Merlin before handing the soaped flannel to Merlin, who took it with a yawn. “Let’s get this done, so we can sleep.” With a sleepy flutter of eyes, Merlin took the offered flannel and scrubbed Arthur’s wet skin half-heartedly.

Once satisfied with Merlin’s level of work, Arthur took the flannel back and dropped it on the shower floor, reaching around the sleepy clerk to turn the taps off before bustling him out of the shower and into the cool bathroom air. Tugged two towels off the heated towel rack, Merlin handed one to Arthur and dried himself off with the other before leaving it on the toilet and stumbling into the bedroom with Arthur on his heels.

After pulling the duvet down, Merlin snagged a clean pair of boxers and climbed into bed, watching as Arthur tugged on a pair of sleep pants before getting into bed. With the pair snuggled in the warm bed, Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, tucking the brunette’s head under his chin.

“Love you, Arthur,” Merlin murmured as sleep began to take over him. Arthur smiled sleepily in reply and pressed a gentle kiss to Merlin’s forehead just as he too began to nod off.

“Love you, too.”


	12. A Simple Truth

Merlin couldn’t stop rolling his eyes as he continued to read over the nursery packets Arthur had brought home on Friday. He had disappeared around lunch time, only to return with a stack of packets, detailing all the reasons why this nursery or that nursery would be best suited for Jack. Honestly, the mission statements of some of these places were just laughable. And as much as he wanted to laugh and call Arthur an idiot, Merlin knew that this decision making process was important to his partner, so he was willing to go along with it for the time being.

Dropping the brochure on the sofa beside him, Merlin watched as Jack scooted across the floor. While he had mastered the art of using his arms to get the forward motion started, using his legs was still a bit more complicated. So to get himself across the floor, Jack would arch his back then pull his butt forward, sliding his knees and legs across the floor. After witnessing it the first couple of times, Arthur had suggested that maybe a pair of kneepads was in order for the baby; otherwise his knees were in danger of resembling salami.

“Your Arthur is a clotpole,” Merlin murmured to himself before sliding off the sofa to crawl across the floor, joining a nine month old Jack.

In light of the overwhelming lack of available floor space, Arthur and Merlin had quickly learned to adapt, which meant furniture was shifted, so Jack could roll, crawl, and scoot to his hearts content. Even if Merlin did lose the functional use of his coffee table that now lived under the living room window and his oversized chair was closer to the television cabinet.

Jack grinned as though in agreement and waved his hand, showing Merlin his toy whale, which Merlin not-so-secretly thought was a shark. It had huge teeth and a pointed first dorsal fin, so he naturally assumed that it was a shark. However Gwaine, who had bought the toy, had quickly told him that he was wrong and it was smiling whale.

 _Lies_ , Merlin thought, _Gwaine is a lying liar. There is no way that’s not a shark._

“Made any progress?” Arthur asked upon walking into the room from the kitchen with Jack’s lunch, a plate of pureed cheesy spinach and potato bake with a dessert of bananas and peaches. The bananas and peaches weren’t too bad; it was the pureed bake that gave Arthur nightmares, but at least it was better than the pureed Sunday dinner. Never again would a jar of that hideous, not-resembling-anything-like food was going to come near Jack.

Instead of answering the question, Merlin simply grinned and held out his hand to take the divided plate from Arthur, leaving him to pick Jack up and set him in his booster chair to eat. With the little boy situated, Arthur dropped down to the floor, spreading his jean-clad legs out as he leaned against Merlin, who was in a pair of running shorts and a ratty looking t-shirt. Jack was the only person less dressed than Merlin, in just his nappy and a too-big-for-him t-shirt; however the hot air in the flat was stifling even with the fan on full blast.

And while Arthur’s offer of letting them stay at his place for a couple of days was thoughtful, Merlin had refused it and his offer to buy a couple of additional fans, for such a trivial matter as a lack of cool air. Besides, the weatherman had reported just this morning that the mini heat wave looked like it would probably break by tomorrow evening. So if he was right, then the whole fixing of the air conditioner would be a moot point as far as he was concerned.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Arthur said after a long pause. Merlin was a very vocal person and when he wasn’t, that’s when Arthur knew something was wrong. He likened the behavior to a cat that Morgana once had. The cat would meow and cry, yet the moment it silent that’s when Morgana tended to start worrying over it.

Merlin rolled his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug as he thought about Arthur’s question. It warmed his heart to have tangible proof that Arthur cared about Jack; yet, he didn’t want Jack to have Arthur’s childhood… private schools one after another until he went off to Cambridge or Oxford for whatever subject that struck his fancy for the moment.

Thankfully a knock on the door saved him from having to answer. Handing the plate to Arthur, Merlin climbed to his feet, ignoring the slight twinges in his leg muscles as he moved, a small price to pay when trying to keep up with a growing boy, who was just getting his sea legs, and a partner who thought football in the park was a good idea. Without bothering to look through the peep hole, Merlin opened the door and stopped, staring with wide eyes at the person on the other side… at a person he hadn’t expected to see again.

From where he stood, Merlin could see that last eight months had been good for Freya; she had managed to loose both the baby weight and the haunted look in her eyes. Taking a step back, Merlin allowed her to enter before throwing a look over his shoulder, his eyes falling on Arthur where he was continuing to try and feed Jack lunch. A look that clearly said that Arthur need to take Jack and go, go now. Merlin had no wish for the boy to witness anything that was about transpire between Freya and him.

“I’m here for Jack,” Freya stated abruptly, her eye never straying past Merlin’s face, terrified that one look upon her son she had abandoned would break the image she had in her. During the last eight months, Freya lived in denial, spinning a fictional world where time had simply stopped and Jack (and Merlin) was merely waiting for her return.

Yet, a quick glance to the photos on the bookcase told her everything she needed to know. Instead of the chaos she had expected from leaving Jack in Merlin’s care, the boy had blossomed under his godfather’s care, growing from a newborn into a crawling mess of intrigue. After taking her fill of the photos, Freya’s gaze drifted to the floor, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched her son, who was more enthralled with chewing on his spoon than the actual mush on it.

The sound of unchecked shock caused her to turn her away and look at Merlin, whose face was a mixture of anger, hurt, and confusion. She had never meant to leave Jack, but the prospect of being a single parent had been weighing heavily on her since Will’s death, especially when coupled with her own thoughts about her pregnancy.

Rising to his feet, Arthur scooped Jack into his arms with every intention of following Merlin’s silent plea to take Jack away from his birth mother. This discussion needed to happen privately between them, without any outside interference, even though Arthur would have very much liked to stay, lending Merlin his full support. Yet as much as Arthur wanted to stay, he knew that Jack needed him more. So with a quick detour, Arthur grabbed Jack’s swimming trucks and a beach towel from the fresh laundry on the table before he was at the door, stopping only long enough to snag Jack’s bag off the coffee table.

“Remember to put sunscreen on him,” Merlin called out as soon as Arthur opened the front door, which Arthur waved off, ducking out the door and leaving the two friends standing in an awkward silence.

“So that’s Arthur?” Freya offered attempting to ease the tension in the flat as well as distract from the bombshell she had dropped. When she had gotten off the train at Dalston Kingsland, Freya had slowly been psyching herself up, yet the moment Merlin had opened the door, she had unintentionally blurted out the first thought in her head.

“How did you know?”

“I believe your exact words were… blonde hair, blue eyes, and the face of a Greek god,” Freya quipped with a mischievous grin, which seemed to wipe away all traces of self-doubt and worry from her face. For a brief moment, she looked like the Freya from their youth; sixteen and without a care in the world, instead of the life weary Freya who had disappeared.

“I so didn’t say that,” Merlin grumbled before he burst out laughing, remembering how he had came home from the pub that first night and recounted both of his meetings of Arthur to a sleepy Freya, who had smiled and giggled along with Merlin as he made her a bedtime snack.

“You did, you did,” Freya countered, joining in with Merlin’s laughter and for a brief second, it felt like the old times, where there wasn’t anything remotely nasty hanging over their heads. Yet, Freya knew that it couldn’t last, the elephant in the room had to be addressed. Focusing her gaze on a framed photo of Jack with Merlin and Arthur at the park, Freya remarked, “He’s gotten big.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agreed, rocking back and forth on his heels as he awkwardly glanced around his living room at the various photos of Jack, Arthur, and his family that were slowly taking any and all available shelving space. “Tea?” He finally asked, choosing to break the awkward silence that had descended once their laughter had stopped.

Freya turned her gaze from the photo to Merlin and gave a murmured, “please.”

With a small smile and a gesture to the couch, Merlin retreated into the kitchen, letting his mind focus on something other than their impending discussion. As the water boiled, Merlin leaned against the kitchen counter and waited. On the one hand, he glad to see Freya again, yet on the other, he really wished she had just stayed away. Sure, Jack would probably have tons of questions about his mother when he was older, questions that Merlin probably wouldn’t be able to answer, but at least, Jack wouldn’t have the daily reminder of having Freya’s presence in his life and knowing what she had done to him.

Once the tea was ready, Merlin carried both mugs out into the living room and handed one to Freya before dropping into the oversized chair. Not knowing exactly where to begin, Merlin sipped his drink and waited for Freya to speak; after all, she’s the one who left Jack in Merlin’s care without so much as a by your leave.

“I guess you’re wondering why I left…”

Merlin could hear the uncertainty in her voice, the kind he’d usually try to soothe when Arthur’s clients had appointments at the office, especially the nervous ones. However Freya didn’t deserve such kindness or perceived understanding; after all, she was one who had left, instead of trying to talk to Merlin about all her worries. Maybe if she had, Merlin wouldn’t have been so angry and abuse when she left… he would have known of its coming and planned accordingly.

Over the rim of his tea mug, Merlin gave her a blank look, choosing to let their increasingly awkward silence draw her out. With Freya, difficult conversations were always a waiting game and Merlin had mastered the art of them in his youth.

Running her fingers through her hair—more as a nervous tick than actually needing to move the dark strands away from her face—, Freya bit her bottom and said, “I thought I could be his mother, but I realized that I couldn’t do it alone.”

“But you weren’t alone, Freya. I was here,” Merlin bit out forcibly, eyes tight as he regarded his long time friend.

“I know that,” Freya agreed defensively. “Will and I had so many plans but then he was gone, and our plans were nothing but rubbish.

There was a sadness in her voice, which tugged at Merlin’s heart, causing him to reach out and wrap his hand around hers. As much as he wanted to vilify her for her actions, he couldn’t fault her for being human. Not everyone was as strong as his mother, who had raised her son after Merlin’s dad walked out, leaving her with a mortgage she couldn’t afford, a colicky six week old baby, and no real family to turn to for help… save for Gaius.

“But what about Jack? Did your plans include him?”

“Of course they included him,” she spat, angry that Merlin would even suggest that Jack hadn’t been a part of their plans. If anything, he was the center of their plans, which might had been the problem for Freya. Will had wanted a large family and Freya had wanted to give that to him, yet it wasn’t until after his death that Freya realized that she was in love with the idea of making Will happy more than she was in love with being a mum.

“I don’t think they did,” Merlin mused aloud and without malice. He didn’t want to cause his friend any additional pain, but it wouldn’t help anyone if she wasn’t completely honest with herself and him. With a squeeze of her hand, Merlin stopped her from replying and added, “Because if they did, you wouldn’t have left. Regardless of Will’s death and your feelings over losing him, Jack needed you more.”

“I needed Will, though!” Freya exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. “I needed his support and he left me.”

“It’s not like he wanted to leave you, Freya.”

Twisting on her heel, Freya stalked over to the bookshelf and grabbed the photo she had been looking at earlier. “I know that, Merlin. But it still hurt that he wasn’t here.”

“But I was,” Merlin murmured sadly. After almost a decade of friendship, it was like none of it mattered… he didn’t matter to her because he wasn’t Will. He would never be Will to Freya. All he would ever be to Freya was her slightly geeky, gay best friend, and not the love of her life, not the center of her world.

“And you were amazing; you helped me a lot, Merlin. And I’m so grateful to you—”

“But,” Merlin interjected, knowing exactly what was coming. A decade of friendship meant Merlin could read Freya like a book.

Freya smiled softly. “But I’m ready to try and be his mother, Merlin. I deserve that chance.”

Yet her plea had come too late. With a sad shake of his head, Merlin set his mug down and stood, crossing to the bookshelf to take the photo from her. “I’m sorry, but you lost your chance.”

“I’m his mother, Merlin,” she shot back, spinning on her heel and returning to her seat on the sofa. The look of determination of her face spoke volumes and Merlin knew that he’d have to tell her the truth. “You can’t keep me from him.”

As much as Freya wanted to believe that Merlin was being a judgmental friend. His statement had nothing to do with actually wanting to keep Jack from Freya, it had everything to do with upholding his responsibility as a parent—ensuring his son was raised in a loving environment.

With a sure hand, Merlin reached and plucked a folder wedged between two books from the shelf. He had been meaning to move it to a more secure location (at Arthur’s insistence), but had never managed to get around to it. If it wasn’t Jack distracting him, then it was Arthur. And Merlin couldn’t say he was unhappy with either of their brands of distractions.

“Unfortunately, the courts say I can because I’m legally his father,” Merlin explained as he handed her the barely two weeks old adoption papers.

The decision to adopt Jack had been hard for him. Merlin had wrestled with it on and off for weeks, loosing sleep over whether it would right for Jack in the long run. And it was only after the residence order had been granted that Merlin realized that Jack needed a permanent home… the stability of knowing that he’d always be care for and loved, instead of the uncertainty of foster care (which Arthur might have had a hand in pointing out). So the process to adopt began with social services being notified, new documents submitted to the courts, and the most important part begun… a search for Freya or any other living relative of Will and her that could take Jack… even though Merlin knew no such people existed. It was only after social services had terminated their search and the five and half months of red tape and home visits were finished, Merlin was finally able to call Jack his.

Merlin watched as tears gathered in Freya’s eyes, her hands clutching the pages in a tight grip as she repeated, “But I’m his mother.”

He could hear the desperation in her voice, and if it had been eight months ago, Merlin might have felt sympathy for her. Yet it wasn’t… it’s eight months later. Eight months of Merlin living on a knife’s edge, both dreading and hoping she’d come back for Jack. Arthur and he had become Jack’s parents; the ones who had barely slept during his teething, calling the pediatrician in a blind panic when his temperature had spiked to 37 degrees Celsius.

After taking the documents from her before she could crush them, Merlin put them on the coffee table along with his mug, and then grabbed her hands again. “I need you to understand why I did it.”

“I know why you did it, Merlin,” Freya said with a sniffle and a humorless laugh. She looked so tiny to Merlin, standing there as her eyes moved through the flat. It looked nothing like it had when she left, which should have been a red flag to Merlin… Hunith had said as much after finding out how much stuff Merlin didn’t have for Jack. _Since the dawn of time_ , she said, _soon-to-be mothers readied their homes and their lives for babies by insuring that they had everything a child would need for those first few weeks or months of life._

Before Jack’s birth, the flat had resembled a bachelor’s pad (save for the cot in the bedroom); yet post Freya’s leaving, the flat looked like the kid’s section of John Lewis. So the fact that Freya hadn’t bought anything baby related (the cot had been Merlin’s, which Hunith had happily sent) should have told Merlin everything he needed to know about the state of Freya’s mind.

Digging into her purse, she pulled out a couple of facial tissues, dabbing her eyes and nose. “It doesn’t make me feel better, though.”

“It’s not meant to make you feel better,” Merlin replied darkly as he let go of her hands, putting some distance between them.

“I know, Merlin,” she murmured, knowing that she had lost this fight. Jack wasn’t hers anymore and all she could do was accept whatever Merlin was willing to give her, which she hoped was a chance at being a part of the boy’s life. “Believe me, I know.”

After she had uttered those words, the pair fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and as those minutes ticked by, Merlin found himself at a lost of where they were supposed to go from here. While he would always love Freya, he had a responsibility to Jack and his wellbeing, his friendship and loyalty to Freya be damned.

Crossing his arms, Merlin leveled a look at Freya’s bowed head as he tried to choose his words carefully. “Give me some time,” he said tentatively, earning a hopeful, wide-eyed look from Freya. “I’m not promising you anything, Freya. All I’m saying is that I need time to decide what your role is going to be in his life.”

With a solemn nod, Freya gave her oldest friend a small sad smile. “While I can’t say that I’m happy with it, I can say it’s something I’ll have to live with.” Standing up from her seat, Freya pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and then with a look at Merlin, said, “You were always a better friend than either Will or I deserved.”

“I didn’t want it to turn out like this, Freya, but you didn’t give me much of a choice,” Merlin explained gently, knowing that while it gave her little comfort, it was the truth. Jack needed a stable home, a home that Merlin was willing and able to provide.

Freya didn’t bother to respond; instead she simply crossed over to him and placed a kiss on his cheek before turning and walking to the door. Then just as she opened it, Merlin asked the one question he had wanted to know since he had come home to find her gone. “Where did you go?”

“Here and there,” she said dismissively. She left without a set destination in mind, just knowing that she needed to get away from the hurt, the pain, and Jack.

With a nervous lick of her lips, she stared boldly at Merlin, eyes bright with tears and love. “Thank you for loving Jack, better than I ever could.” And with that, Freya closed the door behind her, leaving Merlin to his thoughts.

Freya’s words caused Merlin to pause, wondering if Freya actually meant them; but he didn’t want to dwell on the guilt they caused within him. Merlin had never wished for any of this to happen, so pushing the guilt down, he focused on cleaning up Jack’s lunch where Arthur had left it. Once the dishes were in the sink, he fished his keys out from the bowl by the door and left, locking the door behind him before he started down the back stairs leading to a small back garden.

Stepping out onto the small patio, Merlin took in his fill of Arthur leaning against the side of Jack’s Thomas the Tank engine shaped paddling pool and flicking water at the little boy, who returned every flick with one of his own: a hand slapped against the water. The pool had been a gift from Leon at the start of summer and the little boy couldn’t get enough of it. He loved to splash himself and anyone else, who just happened to be in range, namely Arthur and Merlin.

At the sound of a door closing, Arthur glanced up and grinned, causing a wave of warmth to flood through Merlin. In three short steps, Merlin crossed to Arthur’s side, digging his bare toes into the soft grass as he kneeled next to Arthur.

“Everything okay?”

Merlin gave a half-heartedly shrug and said, “It isn’t, but it will be.” Shifting to lay onto his back, he rested his head against Arthur’s knee and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool breeze as it ruffled his hair and swept across the garden, rustling branches and a small plot of flowers in the northwest corner.

Knowing that Merlin would talk when he was ready, Arthur threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, and lightly scratched his scalp. Although Arthur had never been known for his patience, so only a few minutes had passed when said, “Move in with me.”

“You’re place isn’t exactly kid friendly,” Merlin replied absently, not really paying attention to his boyfriend save for his fingers in his hair.

“Then we’ll baby proof,” Arthur countered, “or better yet get a place together.”

“Arthur…”

“Don’t do that, Merlin. I want you and I want Jack. And if you haven’t noticed, my one year has already come and gone. And yet I’m still here. I love you and I want to build a life with you,” Arthur argued as he stared at Merlin, who had finally opened his eyes.

Merlin rolled eyes and scoffed. “I won’t be a kept man, Arthur.”

“Who’s asking you to? What makes you think I want a lazy sod for a partner, hmm? I already get that enough at the office,” Arthur asked, smirking as outrage flashed across Merlin’s face.

“Oy!”

“Say yes, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, voice not quite pleading.

“But the cost…” Merlin said before trailing off as he bit his lip. He wanted what Arthur was offering, how could he not. Living with Arthur meant them being a family, which was something he wanted to be able to give to all of them, Arthur, Jack, and himself.

With a sigh of faux annoyance, Arthur gave him his typical _‘you’re-an-idiot’_ look and said, “We’ll use my inheritance, that’ll show Uther. Make him roll in his grave, no doubt.”

“That’s your money, Arthur, I can’t—“

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur interjected as his hand shot out to steady Jack, who had decided to use the sides of the pool to help him stand. Merlin watched their interaction, impressed by Arthur’s continual ability to be attentive to him while managing to pay attention to Jack or vice versa. “You’re right; it is my money, so what I say goes. And I say the money will be used to help purchase a nice house with a large backyard that’s close to good schools. So no arguments, understand?”

“Yeah,” Merlin breathed out, heart racing a little bit, as he tried to hold in his excitement. There was no reason for Arthur to see the kind of effect his proposal had on him because he already knew. Arthur knew every time he smiled at Merlin. “You do know that this isn’t a marriage proposal right?” Merlin teased with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Why would I want to marry someone with Dumbo ears…” Arthur said, trailing off with a smirk on his lips.

Reaching up, Merlin found Arthur’s nipple through his shirt and twisted. “Apologize.”

“Ow, ow,” Arthur said as he pulled his hand from Merlin hair and pressed it to his chest, “you’re right. I’m sorry. It isn’t fair to Dumbo; his ears were much smaller.”

“Prat!” Merlin exclaimed, which earned him a delightful giggle from Jack. Sitting up, Merlin put his hands under Jack’s arms and lifted, bringing the little boy out of the water. “You think that’s funny, Jack?” He asked as he held him against his chest.

“Of course, our son thinks his daddy’s funny looking,” Arthur teased as he draped the beach towel over Jack’s back and shoulders.

“Our son,” Merlin repeated with a small, pleased smile on his lips. “That’s the first time you’ve called him that.”

“Out loud, yeah,” Arthur agreed. “I’ve been calling him that in my head since you applied with the court. For better or for worse, Merlin, I’m not leaving you or Jack.”

Merlin’s face softened as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them, catching Arthur’s mouth in a slow, heated kiss. “It’s time for Jack’s nap and we have things to discuss.”

“Things? Or _things_?” Arthur asked as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Merlin laughed and kissed him again, leaving no room for error about what he wanted from his boyfriend.

“Oh! _Things_!”

Getting to his feet, Merlin bounced Jack a couple of times, earning a peal of laughter from the little boy. “You ready for naptime, Jack,” he asked as he started to cross the garden, knowing that Arthur wasn’t too far behind.

Then as though he understood, Jack let out a yawn and laid his head down Merlin’s shoulder, eyes blinking against the bright sun as he tried to stay awake. But the softness of his dad’s shoulder combined with his warmth was no match for the little boy, so before Merlin had even reached the garden door, Jack was asleep, dreaming of warm summer days in the pool with both his daddies.


	13. Epilogue

“Dad!” Jack yelled as he ran across the garden, making a beeline for Arthur. “She’s following me again. Why does she keep trying to kiss me? Make her stop!” he wailed as he wrapped his arms around his dad’s knee.

Placing his hand on Jack’s unruly black hair, Arthur played with the small curls, running his fingers through them before resting his hand on the boy’s back, patting it sympathetically. Gwen and Lance’s daughter, Abby, was slowly toddling her way over, which told Arthur that Jack didn’t really mind the attention. Otherwise, the five year old would have made a brake for it and gone to hide in his room. “She likes you, Jack. Plus, she’s two. She wants to kiss everybody.”

“But it’s gross!” He exclaimed as he scrunched up his nose in disgust. “She probably has cooties!” Jack added, his tone leaving no room for doubt about Jack’s thoughts about that particular infliction.

Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from laughing; if he hadn’t known otherwise, he wouldn’t have believed that Merlin wasn’t Jack’s biological parent. They were so similar from their use of the dramatics to the tiny shy smiles they gave Arthur when they knew they had done something wrong.

“Ah, cooties,” Arthur replied, pausing for dramatic effect. “The bane of every 5 year old's existence.”

With narrow eyes, Jack crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks before stomping off, clearly put off by his dad’s lack of sympathy.

“How has he not murdered you in your sleep?” Merlin mused aloud as he appeared beside Arthur, who reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, while he continued to follow their son across the garden.

It was only after Jack had stopped next to Gwaine and Percy that Arthur finally turned and looked at Merlin, who still hadn’t lost the stupid floppy sunhat Morgana had put on his head when had she arrived. Neither man was certain why she had done it, but Merlin had decided to keep it, claiming that it was a good conversation piece.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you sleep closest to the door?” Arthur said smugly, earning a shoulder bump from Merlin.

“Prat.”

“Pr-at!” Abby repeated, giggling as she dropped onto her cushioned bottom and blinked innocently up at her godfathers. Merlin and Arthur had been so focused on their conversation; neither had noticed Abby’s arrival.

In the years since Jack’s birth, their group had slowly grown to include playmates for Jack—Gwen and Lance’s daughter Abigail and in a few short months Gwaine and Percy’s child. So with the inclusion of small ears, everyone tended to be mindful.

Luckily nothing held her attention for very long, so soon she was off again, her sights already set on another victim.

“I blame you,” Merlin hissed through clenched teeth, once the girl was gone, toddling on slightly unsteady legs.

“And yet, you said it,” Arthur quipped. “Also just so we’re clear, I’m hiding behind you if anything happens.”

“Coward.”

With a cheeky grin, Arthur said, “When Gwen’s involved… yes, yes I am.”

“Remind me again, why I married you?” Merlin groused, crossing his arms as he gave Arthur a pointed look.

Rocking back and forth on his heels, Arthur grinned at his partner and said, “You haven’t yet; although, it’s only a matter of time.”

Five years on and they still weren’t any closer to getting married. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to; it was the simple fact they didn’t see the need to. Nothing in their relationship would change because of it. They’d still be a family of three living in the same three-bedroom house Merlin and Arthur had purchased not long after Freya’s return. And Arthur would still be the same man, who had officially adopted Jack not long after his second birthday.

“Clotpole.”

“I’m yours though,” Arthur teased fondly.

“True,” Merlin agreed, then looked away and out into the large yard filled with laughing kids and chatting adults. As his eyes drifted, he spotted Jack in Abby’s grip, looking every bit like he really wanted to push her off and bolt. Yet somehow between them, they’d managed to raise a little gentleman to everyone’s surprise—including their own. “I’d better go save our son,” Merlin announced with a gesture towards the captured boy.

Arthur grinned and laughed as he watched Merlin wander in their son’s direction, making sure to stop every couple of feet to have a word or two with some of their guests. Merlin’s antics and the unwavering _‘I_ _will_ _kill_ _you’_ look from Jack were just too much, causing Arthur to almost fall over in a fit of hysterics.

“What’s so funny, Arthur?”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water was slashed on him. Merlin might have made a kind of peace with Freya for Jack’s sake; Arthur still hadn’t forgiven the woman for abandoning his son. She had voluntarily left a defenseless baby because she couldn’t deal with being a single mother, even if her best friend was willing and had stepped up to help her.

“Just Merlin and Jack,” Arthur replied off-handily while wishing that someone would show up and stop their awkward conversation in its tracks. There was a reason why Arthur avoided any and all interactions with Freya or at least tried to keep it to a minimum. And while it was his birthday party, one puppy dog look from Jack and there was no way he was denying his kid, even if was to invite _Aunt_ Freya to the party.

“I just wanted to say, thanks for inviting me,” Freya told him, even though she knew that it had been all Jack’s doing.

As much as Merlin tried to include her, the rest of his family had made her feel like an outsider, which she completely understood. She had left Jack without a word and had expected Merlin to fix it all. And he hadn’t disappointed her. Jack had two fathers to dote upon him and a host of aunts and uncles to spoil him rotten. The kind of family she had wished for her son.

“How’s the job?” Arthur asked awkwardly as he rocked back and forth on his heels. It was a habit he hated and one that he blamed on Merlin, having picked it up from him. Merlin only did it when he was nervous and at some point, Arthur had started to mimic him.

With an easy smile, Freya said, “It’s good. The village is nice and the clients are great, so I can’t really complain.” She had recently taken a nursing position at a small veterinarian practice in the southeast of Surrey, near the Kent border. While it meant that she couldn’t see Jack as often, Freya knew that it was best for everyone. As much as she would have loved to be hands-on in Jack’s life, she knew that she needed to distance herself from the boy and his parents. Arthur and Merlin were his parents, not her.

“Dad, dad!” Jack’s voiced rang out, interrupting their conversation before Arthur could reply. As his son closed in on their location, Arthur swung Jack into his arms, resting him on his hip.

“Ouf,” Arthur groaned once Jack was settled. “You’re getting big, kid.”

Jack grinned. “Not as big as you. Daddy says that you’re getting love handles. Dad, what’s love handles?”

“Ignore your daddy and his Dumbo ears.”

Tapping his finger against his chin, Jack thought about it for a moment before conceding with an affirmative. “Hi, Aunt Freya.”

“Hi, love,” Freya returned with a soft smile on her lips. Jack was beginning to look more and more like Will every day and it warmed her heart to see her son so happy and full of life. “Abby didn’t get you too bad, did she?”

“Nope,” Jack replied, taking care to pop the _p_ as he said it. And then without bothering to tell Arthur what he planned on doing, Jack reached out with both hands, silently instructing Freya to take him. Once he was in her arms, Jack said, “I need your help.”

“With what?” She asked, curious about what her son could possibly want from her. The relationship she shared with Jack amounted to an exchange of Christmas and birthday presents and Saturdays spent at various museums and the Zoo, which was what she and Merlin had agreed upon. Jack would be told when he was old enough to understand all the whys and the hows related to Freya’s living, but until that time, Freya was happy to have any time with Jack that his dads were willing to give her.

“All the reasons why I should be allowed to have a dog; I’ve started a list,” Jack explained while narrowing his eyes at his blonde dad. Though unbeknownst to Jack, Arthur wasn’t the reason why they still didn’t have a dog, Merlin was the hold out and not even Arthur had managed to convince him… for once, using sex as leverage had failed. “It’s in my room,” he added as soon as he noticed that Freya wasn’t walking towards the house.

With a flippant twist of his wrist, Arthur waved them off, already focused on another party guest coming towards him. And as soon as the guest was in range, hands shot out and grabbed him, pulling him into a rough hug. Then after a couple of friendly pats to the back, Arthur was released, so he could peer into Isaac’s smiling face.

Personality wise, Isaac and Merlin could be twins; both had hearts too big for their chest and no sense of when to stop putting the needs or wants of others ahead of themselves. However, that’s where their similarities ended; Isaac was taller and broader than Merlin, and not a pale Welsh boy. Instead, he had been a messed up kid from Harlem, who had been fostered and later adopted by a wonderful family in Greenwich Village.  

“Feeling old, man?” Isaac teased, which caused Arthur to roll his eyes and sigh.

“We’re the same age,” Arthur griped good-naturally.

Isaac waved hand up, dismissing Arthur’s statement. “No, I’m three months younger.”

“Details, details,” Arthur grumbled with a smile. “Where’s Adam?” He asked, looking around the garden for any sign of Isaac’s partner.

“I think Morgana dragged him off somewhere,” Isaac told him, sounding unsure himself of where his partner had disappeared too. “I heard something about cake.”

“Cake is always good,” Arthur said, “let’s go find this mythical cake.” Isaac grinned, wrapping his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, and led him in the direction he had seen Morgana and Adam go.

As they moved through the cluster of friends, a voice called out his name, causing the blonde to stop and smile. “Mordred, you came.”

The now University aged man grinned and said, “Yeah, I managed to finish my project early. Happy Birthday, Arthur.”

“Thanks,” Arthur replied, pulling Mordred into a half hug.

Their relationship might not have started on the best of terms or circumstances; but as soon as Mordred had found the support of Tristan and Isolde, the teenager had blossomed. By the end of following summer, he had managed to sit his GCSEs and was all set to start taking A-Level courses in the fall. Arthur couldn’t have been prouder if Mordred had been his own son.

And though, Mordred still carried the scars of his teenage years, anyone who happened to glanced twice at him wouldn’t have known that he had spent a few years living on the street; all they would have seen was a University student in his second year of studying for his degree in medieval history at Queen Mary, University of London.

With a pat on the back, Arthur released Mordred, looking on as he drifted back into the crowd, most likely looking for Tristan and Isolde.

Once he was gone, Isaac pulled him through the crowd, steering him closer to food table, where Morgana and Adam were standing with Arthur’s cake, probably waiting for the birthday boy. As they walked, Arthur allowed the sound of laughter and the smell of good food drift over him.

Six years ago, Arthur would’ve never pictured himself with this life. The anger for his father had driven him across the pond and to New York. Yet all of it changed when Morgana had played her hand, influencing him to stay when all he wanted to do was leave. Happily he never counted on falling in love with his clerk or the man’s amazing godson.

Now he couldn’t picture his life without Merlin and Jack; they were everything to Arthur and he wouldn’t give them up for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Sources Used:
> 
> Uther’s Will:  
> http://www.tenminutewill.co.uk/help.cgi?page=sample_will
> 
> Magistrates Court/Offences:  
> http://www.ukcle.ac.uk/resources/teaching-and-learning-practices/characters/  
> http://www.ukcle.ac.uk/resources/teaching-and-learning-practices/scripts/  
> https://www.gov.uk/courts/magistrates-courts  
> http://www.ukcle.ac.uk/students/resources-for-students/procedure/  
> http://www.inbrief.co.uk/legal-system/moving-to-crown-court.htm  
> http://www.justice.gov.uk/downloads/legal-aid/eligibility/list-of-criminal-offences.pdf  
> http://www.justice.gov.uk/youth-justice/courts-and-orders/disposals/youth-rehabilitation-order  
> http://sentencingcouncil.judiciary.gov.uk/docs/web_overarching_principles_sentencing_youths.pdf  
> http://www.cps.gov.uk/legal/d_to_g/drug_offences/#a01
> 
> Parental Responsibility  
> https://www.gov.uk/child-adoption  
> https://www.gov.uk/parental-rights-responsibilities


End file.
